DmC: Beyond The Fall
by c.legler
Summary: (After Vergil's Downfall) Vergil has risen as the Demon King in Mundus's place, but Mundus isn't finished yet. Summoned against his will, Dante is sent to recover Sparda's weapon, the Force Edge, and to take on Mundus with little more than Rebellion and the aid of a mysterious new friend. Will he reach Sparda's weapon in time, or will humanity fall to both Vergil and Mundus?
1. Chapter 1: The Prince of Darkness

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in this story except those that I made up myself. **

**Side Note: A lot of the elements to this story are taken from many of the DMC games. The only continuity this story follows is of DmC, with other references to the others in both characters, objects, locations, etc. So if you see something in my story that isn't continuous with any of the original DMC games, please don't annoyingly point it out to me. I changed it/did what I did with it for a reason. And I mean that in the nicest way. You'll see what I mean eventually. :)**

**Additional side note: This story takes place after the events of Vergil's Downfall. If you haven't played it, I suggest you either play it or read a quick synopsis of its events so you won't be lost. Or don't...it's up to you.**

**Now, enough of the formalities. Welcome to my first DMC fanfic! Read on, and enjoy! :)**

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Underneath the protection of the black night sky, he was invisible. He hastened across the stone balcony, dipping his head and darting his eyes this way and that. Even though the cathedral was constantly guarded from the inside out, there were few other sentries mulling about. Nonetheless, he had to be careful. The Prince would not be happy if anything went wrong – and that was a modest way to put it.

The heavy, rusty metal gate creaked open as he squeezed himself past their spikes and into the graveyard. Four dead bodies lay in his wake, with bloody, fist-sized holes in their chests. With the sentries dead, no one would be able to follow him into the graveyard – not that anyone would want to. In fact, he kind of wondered why _he _was going there. Was this a terrible, horrible idea?

_It's too late for doubts now, _he told himself. _You've sworn yourself to the Prince._

He made his way across the uneven hills and past the headstones, shoving all anxious thoughts as far back into his mind as he could. He approached the mausoleum safely protected beneath the canopy of scraggly, hanging tree branches. Drawing in a deep breath, he entered into the darkness.

The heavy door creaked shut with a thud, sealing him inside the mausoleum alone. Well, "alone" wasn't quite the way to put it.

The mausoleum was empty, save for a tall slab of smooth stone positioned along the back wall. It was nearly twelve feet in height, and at least eight feet in length. He bent down near the ground and retrieved a small candle from within his cloak. Half of the candle was black while the other half was white, and a wick extended from each end. He carefully lit each of the wicks and knelt before the wall, pinching the middle of the candle between his fingers and holding it horizontally. He drew in another deep breath, closed his eyes, and whispered, "Castor Price." Then, he blew out the flame on the white half of the candle.

Another deep breath. Every time they had one of these "meetings," he felt uneasy. Terrified and uneasy. And why shouldn't he? _What have I gotten myself into?_

He opened his eyes and whispered, "Mundus." Then, he blew out the flame of the black half of the candle.

He waited for several long, unnerving seconds before the mausoleum began to rumble. A powerful, heavy current began to surge through his veins like lead, weighing him down with terrifying power. _This _was why he did this. _This _was why he had sworn himself the Mundus, the Prince of Darkness. The power was intoxicating and captivating. How could he _not _crave it?

He rose to his feet and stepped back, watching as a red orb of energy began to grow before him, forming on the surface of the slab of stone. It started out no bigger than an orange. Then, it was the size of a beach ball. It grew until it blinded him and illuminated the entire mausoleum, exposing every spider and every cobweb. It covered the entire expanse of the stone wall.

He clumsily dropped to his knees before the orb of energy and dipped his head. "I've returned, Master," he said.

Moments later, the shape of a face formed in the red orb of energy. Its features were indistinguishable, but he didn't need to see the eyes to know his master was angry. "Have you recovered the information I requested?" the voice thundered.

He bent his head shamefully. "I'm…I'm working on it, my lord."

"Castor Price," he rumbled, "you are useless!"

"Please, give me more time, Master. I believe I've finally found a lead on its location."

"Is that all?" Mundus demanded. "You have a _lead_?"

"Well, yes. But I think that –"

"Your excuses sicken me."

"Please, my lord. Give me time. I'm very close to finding it."

"Finding it won't matter until you recover the amulets. You should know this by now."

"You're right, Master. Please, forgive me."

"Forgive you?" Mundus chuckled. "I'm not known to be forgiving."

A sharp, unbearable pain reached across his body, sending him to the ground in a seizure. He screamed out to free himself of the agony, but it was to no avail. With the power of the double-edged candle, Mundus shared his body, which meant that he could receive the Prince's power as much as he could receive his punishment.

He jolted and writhed on the ground for several long moments until Mundus released his hold on him. When he could finally breathe again, could finally control himself again, he sucked in heavy gulps of air. Tears streamed out of the corner of his brown eyes, and drool dribbled down his cheek on to the cold ground. His dark hair matted against his cold, sweaty forehead.

"Please…Master…" he managed to heave. He pulled himself to a sitting position and forced himself to meet the empty eyes of the red face. "Give me two more days. That's all I need."

Silence passed for several long moments. Finally, Mundus issued the verdict. "Two days," he confirmed. "If you don't return with the location of the Force Edge by then, I will kill you and find another to take your place."

His heart skipped a beat before he managed to reply. "Yes, my lord. I promise you, I will return with the information."

"The new Demon King has risen in my absence," Mundus grumbled angrily. "Once he discovers that I am resurrecting – if he hasn't already – he will try to find the Force Edge. We must beat him to it and destroy him so that I can reclaim my rightful place."

Castor dragged himself to his feet and nodded. "Yes, my lord."

"You must keep your eyes open for both him and the Nephilim," Mundus continued. "Once that scum realizes I am returning, he will no doubt try to stop the both of us. You have two enemies to watch for. Do you understand?"

"But, my lord," Castor said nervously, "I thought you said there were two Nephilim."

"There _were_," Mundus agreed. "And one has fallen against his own kind. The Demon King is the older twin brother."

Castor struggled to hide his genuine surprise. The sons of Sparda had turned on each other? How could that be? And what did it mean for the demon realm?

He cleared his throat and dipped his head. "I will watch out for them, Master."

"Since you can't manage the simplest of tasks," Mundus continued, "I am sending out some of my own to assist you."

Castor swallowed nervously. "Some of your own?"

Mundus opened his mouth wide, and from the orb of energy flooded several white, wispy streams of mist. They morphed into the shapes of humans and screamed blood-curdling cries of pain so loud that Castor had to cover his ears. He backed towards the wall, his eyes wide with panic. The ghosts circled the mausoleum like reckless spirits looking for an escape.

Mundus chuckled. "Do not fear them, Castor," he said, clearly amused by his servant's cowardice. "They are nothing more than lost souls. They will aid you against the Demon King's hoard of followers."

After a moment, Castor returned to his feet and uncovered his ears. The spirits settled in a line on both sides of Mundus. Their empty stares locked upon Castor, as if he was the enemy. The only hint of some humanity about them was the fist-sized heart situated in what should have been a chest, glowing in a dark crimson color.

A chill ran down Castor's spine. "And the Nephilim?" he asked slowly.

Mundus hesitated. "I suppose you will have to find his Achilles heel on your own."

Facing off against the Nephilim alone was a suicide mission in itself, Castor thought, but he had already sworn himself to Mundus – how much worse could things get?

"Two days," Mundus boomed, interrupting his thoughts. "Return with good news, or you can join these spirits in their endless hunt for rest."

Castor nodded and stepped back. "Yes, my lord. I'll set out right now."

The red orb of energy extinguished, and Mundus was gone. The mausoleum remained lit with the glowing hue of light emitting from the spirits, which put Castor more on edge than when he spoke with Mundus himself. He carefully turned his back and replaced his hood over his head, shoving the door of the mausoleum open. As soon as he did, the spirits rushed past him, screeching like vultures searching for a meal.

What was he unleashing?

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**Read on for a special sneak peek taken from "Chapter 2: The Dead Are Not Dead"**

_"Dante, we have to go!" Kat cried. She turned on her heel and raced out the front door._

_Dante was hot on her heels, but as soon as they emerged from the house, they found themselves facing something even worse than what they'd seen inside._

_The sky had darkened to near-black, and lightning streaked across the dark canvas. A funnel cloud was forming high above - _No_, Dante thought after a moment, _that's no funnel cloud._ It was a group of spirits chasing each other in a circle, shrieking and screaming so loudly that even the human passers-by on the street had to cover their ears. They stared up at the ghosts, murmuring in panic among themselves and pointing at the sight with fear._

_"What the hell is that?" Dante breathed._

_A large red orb began to form in the center of funnel, growing until Saturn's much smaller twin hovered in the sky. Then, the red orb assumed the horrifying shape of a human face. The humans on the streets began to scream in panic, some scampering back into their homes and others remaining awestruck._

_The face released a dark chuckle, and it's empty eyes searched out the crowd below. "Nephilim," it boomed._

_Kat and Dante exchanged worried glances._

_"I know you've received my message," it continued. "You can consider it my warning."_

_"Message?" Dante muttered._

_"The child," Kat said quietly. "When I touched her after she died, I saw him in her memories."_

_"Him?"_

_Kat's eyes glistened with panicked tears._

_"The legacy of Sparda will be no match for me now," the deep voice resumed. "I invite you to take up the challenge and face me once more in two days time. Then, we will see who is the true ruler of humanity. Both you and the Demon King will fall."_

_The face laughed wildly until it disappeared altogether. The spirits suddenly stopped chasing each other in a connected circle and shrieked loudly once more, dispersing and disappearing altogether._

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**Well, that's chapter one! I hope you enjoyed it! Even if you didn't, read and review, please and thank you!**

**Chapter 2 will be posted next Friday. Count on it! :)**


	2. Chapter 2: The Dead Are Not Dead

**Back again on Friday, as promised! Thanks to those who have thus far read my story, and a bigger thanks to those who have reviewed it. :)**

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"And the finishing touch," Dante said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand.

He carefully leaned back and observed his work. The panel would hold the roof for another few months, at least. Until then, the old man would be okay.

He rose to his feet, brushed off his hands, and jumped to the ground level, stirring dust beneath his feet. The old man, Mr. Barnes, was balding except for the white patches of hair on the sides of his head. He smiled at Dante through an almost-toothless grin, clapping his hands together with pure joy. "It looks wonderful, my boy!" he said, chuckling.

Dante folded his arms across his chest and beamed proudly at his handiwork. In the wake of Mundus's raging anger one month ago, much of Limbo City had been physically destroyed – buildings had crumbled, homes had been toppled, and many innocent humans died.

But the few that had survived were under Dante's watchful eye – even if that meant fixing a leaky roof on a Friday afternoon.

Sure, it wasn't his idea of "protection." He would have rather been fighting off hoards of demons, getting a workout in while subsequently defeating the underworld rogues, but in the end he knew he should be thankful for the dry spell. If there were no demons, then no new Demon King had risen up in Mundus's place. Exchanging demon slaying for whatever silly job he was needed for was definitely preferred.

"That should hold off the leaks for another few months," Dante said. "Is there anything else you need us to do?"

He frowned and scratched his bald, shiny head. "Well…I don't think so. But…what's your lady friend doing inside?"

Through the front windows, they could see Kat inside the house busily spray-painting her way from the living room, into the halls, and through the back bedrooms. Dante knew what she was doing, although it seemed like a rather unnecessary precaution.

"She's, uh…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "She's checking for leaks in the woodwork. You know…she's got some kind of special spray that compresses the leaks…"

The old man continued to frown and scratch his head. Dante didn't blame him – even he didn't buy it. "You know what?" he said, advancing towards the house. "I'll just see how much longer she has left. I'll be right back."

He pushed his way through the front door as Kat finished spraying an artistic glyph on the wall. The orange paint glistened beneath the sun's rays streaming in through the window.

"Uh, Kat," Dante said. "I know old Barney is…well, old. But he's not so old that he'll miss a giant glyph painted on his wall."

She turned and faced him with a smile, shaking her head. She quickly folded up the glyph stencil and shoved it into the tube slung across her back. "Just give it a second."

Dante sighed quietly and folded his arms over his chest, staring at the glyph expectantly. After about thirty seconds, the glyph disappeared entirely. "Well, that's impressive," he said. "New spell?"

She glanced down at the can of spray paint in her hands. "I figured it wouldn't hurt to test it out. The demons may be gone, but the humans should still be protected."

Dante nodded, glancing over the room as the other glyphs and lines she'd painted continued to disappear altogether. "Good thinking. And this will keep them out of the house?"

"It sure will," Kat nodded. She squeezed Dante's arm, grinning up at him as she exited the house. "You're all set, Mr. Barnes," she said to the old man. "Like Dante said, I was just checking for leaks. The house should last through a hurricane now."

"Wonderful!" he said, his toothless smile returning. "If you'll just wait while I get my check book…"

Dante waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. It's on the house this time."

He frowned. "Are you sure? That was a lot of dangerous work you did…"

"I'm sure," Dante answered. "Anything for you, Mr. Barnes."

The old man smiled again, placing a hand on both Kat's and Dante's shoulders. "You two must be angels to do something like this."

Dante and Kat exchanged amused grins. "Something like that," Dante chuckled.

"Can I offer you some food or something to drink before you go?"

"No, thanks," Dante replied. "We've got some more stops to make before the day is over."

"Well, you just come by anytime and take up my offer," Mr. Barnes said.

"We'll be sure to do that," Kat returned.

They watched as the old man carefully shuffled into the house, sealing himself in the safety of his demon-proof home. Kat exhaled and folded her arms over her chest. "Who would have thought we'd give up demon slaying and scheming for fixing an old man's leaky roof?"

Dante sighed and collected his tools. They made their way towards the car, both tired and ready for the day to end. "We've become regular housewives."

"Except that we don't cook."

"And we don't clean."

Kat laughed. "Who's our next patient?"

Dante fished a piece of paper out of his pants pocket and examined the scribbles. "Sarah Johnson," he replied. "She's actually just around the block."

They climbed into the car and turned on the ignition, heading down the street for their next customer. Kat swam her hand through the wind outside the car window. Her eyes were cloudy, like they usually were when heavy thoughts weighed down her mind.

"What's up?" Dante asked.

She faced him and forced a smile. "Nothing. Why?"

"You've got that look on your face," he said. "The one you have when something's bothering you. What is it?"

She sighed and pulled her hand inside the car. "Do you ever wonder if maybe our work isn't quite done yet?"

Dante glanced at her. "What do you mean?"

She stared down at her hands and shrugged. "I mean…Mundus is gone, sure. But that just means that the Demon King's throne is open – open to anyone."

Dante stared forward at the road. "I try not to think about it. We've been good for a month. Hopefully it lasts."

Dante had become humanity's watchful protector, which meant doing whatever he had to do to keep the humans safe – from fixing leaky roofs to preventing a new Demon King from rising. And then there was, of course, the _other _loose end: Vergil.

Each day that passed without any kind of attack or threat made Dante that much more nervous and wary. Vergil was still out there somewhere, and he had been set on gaining power by any means. Dante couldn't afford to underestimate him.

But Vergil was still his brother, after all. Sure, they'd gone their separate ways, but that didn't mean Vergil would try to _kill _him – right?

"And there _you _go," Kat interrupted, "drifting off into space."

Dante shook his head clear. "Sorry," he muttered. "I'm just thinking."

"Care to share?" Kat asked gently.

He clutched tightly at the steering wheel and drew in a silent breath. "It's been a month since we defeated Mundus," he said quietly, "and Vergil hasn't shown up anywhere."

Kat looked up at him and blinked. "Are you worried about him?"

Dante shrugged and stared at the road. "Concerned, more than anything."

She nodded and gazed out the window. "You already defeated him once," she said quietly. "If he came back, you could do it again."

"That's not the problem," he muttered. A dull ache stretched across his heart. He tried to ignore it – like he always did – but he couldn't do it. He sighed and leaned back into his seat, forcing a smile. "Never mind," he said. "Forget I mentioned it."

Kat stared at him with sympathetic eyes. "I'm sorry, Dante," she said softly.

That was all she needed to say. She knew exactly what was bothering him. He shrugged, trying to play off his weak moment. "We did what we had to do."

She stared forward at the road. "I…I guess I miss him, too. When he was good."

Dante scoffed. "When he was good," he echoed. "If that's the case, then I guess I never really knew him."

She looked up at him, her eyes heavy and sad. He hated bringing it up – it seemed to bother Kat more than it bothered him. After all, Vergil had raised her, in a way. He had saved her from her father and the demons, had taught her how to survive. She had trusted him, and for what? He had turned on her like it meant nothing.

_Just like he did to me, _Dante thought.

He waved a dismissive hand at Kat and forced a chuckle. "There's not much to do on Fridays, and it gets me thinking. I should probably stop that."

Kat managed a small smile. "That might be a good idea."

Dante glanced down at the piece of paper in his hands, pulling up to the driveway of a small, rundown house. "Here we are," he said. He switched off the ignition and frowned. "Looks like this place got the short end of the stick," he muttered.

"Well, isn't that why we're here?" Kat asked, grinning as she stepped out of the car.

With a tired sigh, Dante closed the car door and followed Kat up the steps to the house. He rapped loudly twice, only to find the door ajar. It creaked open to reveal a damp, musty smell hanging in the air and dust settled over the overturned furniture.

"Uh…hello?" Dante called tentatively.

"Dante," Kat said nervously, "no one has been here for a while."

"Then who called us for help?"

Kat drew her spray paint and took a step back. "I don't know. But I have a feeling we shouldn't be here."

Dante didn't feel the same way. He pushed the door open and entered the house, pressing his nose into the crook of his elbow as the nauseating odor of rot met his nose. He and Kat inspected the house for any signs of life, but the house was completely vacant.

At least, that was what they thought – the sound of a child crying met their ears, distant and almost inaudible.

"There's a child in here somewhere," Kat said. She pocketed her spray paint and hastened across the front room and down the hallway.

Dante sighed. "All things creepy start with a kid," he muttered. But he followed after Kat anyway.

They made their way down the hall and into the darkness where the child's cries became louder. Kat pushed open a bedroom door to find a heap of mess and disoriented furniture barricaded between them and the little girl.

The little girl sat hunched in the corner of the room, her face buried in her knees. She gasped and lifted her head upon hearing the door creak open, her cheeks streaked with tears and her eyes wide with fright.

"It's okay," Kat said gently. "We're here to help you. Are you hurt?"

She blinked and sniffled before shaking her head.

Kat took a step forward and extended a hand. "Why don't you come over here, and we can try to help you?"

The girl blinked again, as if she didn't understand. Finally, she carefully rose to her feet. Her long, dark hair hung around her face like an ominous curtain, and something in her eyes wasn't quite right.

"Kat," Dante murmured, "are you sure this is a good idea?"

Kat glared at him. "She's a little girl, Dante. What harm can –?"

The little girl stepped over the broken glass and overturned dresser, reaching for Kat's hand. Kat gasped and startled, staring down at the child's hand. She met the little girl's eyes, her own wide with concern.

For a moment, they remained frozen hand-in-hand, their eye contact strong and unwavering. Dante rubbed the back of his neck. "Is everything okay?"

Kat finally shook her head clear after a long, silent moment. "Of course," she replied uneasily, glancing at Dante with a forced smile. She helped the little girl over the debris in the room, and guided her through the door and into the hallway.

Dante shuddered as he and the child made eye contact for the briefest moment. Her gray eyes were chilling, and beheld some kind of strange power that he couldn't fully understand. _Something isn't right here, _he thought.

The little girl carefully and slowly walked through the hall towards the front of the house, completely silent the entire time.

"She seems a little off," Dante whispered.

"She is," Kat agreed.

She reached a hand out to the side and gripped the iron candelabra settled on the nearby coffee table. Then, in the blink of an eye, she swung the candelabra at the back of the little girl's head, sending her to the floor in a bloody sprawl.

"Kat, what the hell?!" Dante exclaimed.

Kat dropped the candelabra to the ground with a thud and instantly drew her can of spray paint. "She's a demon, Dante!"

He didn't need to be told twice. Dante instantly drew Rebellion as it appeared on his back, flickering with incredible power.

From the child's body emerged a wispy stream of white mist, taking the shape of a human hovering in the air.

"That's not a demon," Dante said. "It looks more like a ghost."

Kat glanced between the child's body and the ghostly apparition. "I don't understand," she breathed.

"Forget it," Dante interrupted. "Let's just get rid of the damn thing!"

He charged forward with Rebellion drawn and thrust his blade straight through the center of the spirit, aiming directly for what he guessed to be its heart. It was easily defeated, disappearing in a cloud of hazy white mist, but expelling it had elicited an unpredictable, painful result.

As soon as Dante drove Rebellion through the spirit's heart, a loud, screeching shriek echoed across the house. Dante dropped to his knees in terrible pain, reaching for his head as a surge of sharp, biting electricity coursed up his spine and into his brain.

Suddenly, his thoughts were not his own. He began to see visions and flashes of the little girl, now much livelier and happier. She raced down the street, giggling and bouncing a ball before her. A voice echoed behind her somewhere, "_Don't run into the street!_" But it was too late.

The girl stopped suddenly to reach for her ball, and a car horn immediately sounded. Tires screeched, the child gasped, and the car collided with her body, sending her flying across the street. Dante experienced every ounce of pain she'd endured, from the snapped spine to the cracked skull. Her body somersaulted unnaturally until it lay in a broken heap, lifeless on the cement with blood pouring from the corner of her mouth.

"Dante!" Kat's distant voice called. "Dante, wake up!"

The next thing he knew, he was back in the house, lying on his back as his vision cleared and returned to normal. Kat hovered over him, shaking his shoulder and running a hand over his face to gauge his temperature.

He slowly blinked his eyes open and stared up at Kat, groaning and reaching a hand to his head.

"Thank God," she whispered, leaning back on her feet. "What happened?"

Dante slowly sat up. "I...I don't know. One second I was here, and the next, I was somewhere else. It was like..." He slowly glanced back at the girl's body and shuddered. "It was like I relived her memories. Terrible memories."

Kat's gaze drifted towards the child. "That was no demon," she said quietly. "I don't know what it was, but when I touched her..." She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I could _feel _the absence of life within her. She was still dead."

"What are you saying?" Dante asked, frowning.

"Somehow, that spirit was able to reanimate the dead. We're not dealing with any run-of-the-mill netherworld rogue, Dante."

"Well, whatever it was," he sighed, rising carefully to his feet, "it's gone now."

Kat rose alongside him and frowned. "You _know _that if there's one, there will be more. But how - and _why _- it chose to take up residence _here _is beyond me..."

Dante shrugged. "The Demon King's throne is vacant. Obviously, the dead are lost. They're taking up refuge anywhere they can. I don't think there's more to it than that."

"That's just it," she insisted. "The Demon King doesn't have control over the dead. He only has control over the demons." She sighed and stared down at the floor in concentration. "Which means that someone - or _something _- is controlling the spirits of the dead."

Dante's stomach turned. "Not sure I want to find out who."

Kat sighed and moved towards the child's body, bending down next to her with sympathetic eyes. "We should...we should bury her or something."

"You said she was already dead," Dante said uneasily.

Kat scowled at him. "The dead deserve respect, too, Dante."

Dante grinned. "So you're gonna be the ferryman, then?"

She rolled her eyes and returned her gaze to the child. Carefully, she reached a hand towards the girl's heavy, open eyelids. As soon as she made contact, however, she jolted, gasped, and stumbled backwards.

"What is it?" Dante demanded.

Kat clambered to her feet and stepped back, eyeing the girl's body with pure horror. A moment later, the body disintegrated into a heap of black ash.

"What the hell is going on?" Dante said, Rebellion flickering on his back.

"Dante, we have to go!" Kat cried. She turned on her heel and raced out the front door.

Dante was hot on her heels, but as soon as they emerged from the house, they found themselves facing something even worse than what they'd seen inside.

The sky had darkened to near-black, and lightning streaked across the dark canvas. A funnel cloud was forming high above - _No, _Dante thought after a moment, _that's no funnel cloud. _It was a group of spirits chasing each other in a circle, shrieking and screaming so loudly that even the human passers-by on the street had to cover their ears. They stared up at the ghosts, murmuring in panic among themselves and pointing at the sight with fear.

"What the hell is that?" Dante breathed.

A large red orb began to form in the center of funnel, growing until Saturn's much smaller twin hovered in the sky. Then, the red orb assumed the horrifying shape of a human face. The humans on the streets began to scream in panic, some scampering back into their homes and others remaining awestruck.

The face released a dark chuckle, and it's empty eyes searched out the crowd below. "Nephilim," it boomed.

Kat and Dante exchanged worried glances.

"I know you've received my message," it continued. "You can consider it my warning."

"Message?" Dante muttered.

"The child," Kat said quietly. "When I touched her after she died, I saw him in her memories."

"Him?"

Kat's eyes glistened with panicked tears.

"The legacy of Sparda will be no match for me now," the deep voice resumed. "I invite you to take up the challenge and face me once more in two days time. Then, we will see who is the true ruler of humanity. Both you and the Demon King will fall."

The face laughed wildly until it disappeared altogether. The spirits suddenly stopped chasing each other in a connected circle and shrieked loudly once more, dispersing and fleeing the scene of the crime.

"We have to get out of here," Kat insisted.

Dante continued to stare up at the sky, his heart pounding and his breath caught in his throat.

"Dante," Kat pleaded, reaching for his hand. "We need to go."

After a moment, he broke out of his trance and nodded, allowing himself to be led down the street by Kat to their car.

He felt like he was in a tunnel, with the humans' panicked voices and questions echoing all around him.

_Did it say Nephilim? _one asked. _Are there demons living among us?_

_Were those ghosts? Did I see that right?_

_Two days? What did it mean about that?_

All of these questions were also bouncing around in Dante's head. His stomach twisted nervously as he replayed the one terrifying fact that he wanted to deny:

Mundus was returning.

* * *

**And now, a sneak peak from "Chapter 3: The Demon King's Request"**

_The Dreamrunner rose to full height and held his scimitars before him in a coercive gesture. Then, he sheathed them. "I have a message to deliver from the Demon King," he said, his voice deep, chilling, and haunting._

_"And you can send it right back," Dante growled._

_"Dante, please," Kat scolded, offering him a pleading look._

_After a hesitant moment, he drew back and sheathed Arbiter. He folded his arms over his chest and drew in a deep breath. "Alright. I'm listening."_

_"The Demon King requests your assistance," the Dreamrunner continued. "A common enemy is reawakening, and can only be silenced with your combined efforts."_

_"Oh, sure. I'll just go with you to find Mundus and we'll become best friends, just like old times."_

_"Mundus _is_ the enemy," he returned._

_Dante stared confusedly at him. "And I don't suppose you'd tell me who the Demon King is?"_

_"The son of Sparda," he replied. "Your brother, Vergil."_

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**Read and review, please and thank you! :)**

**Chapter 3 will be posted next Friday for your viewing pleasure! I guess I should make another side note: ALL chapters will be posted every Friday unless otherwise noted. I am very responsible about getting my chapters posted in a timely manner, so you can count on it! :)**


	3. Chapter 3: The Demon King's Request

**Hey, hey! Back again with another chapter! Thanks to everyone who has been reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it! It tickles me with delight.**

** In Pieces - **Thanks, and I'm glad you're enjoying it! Sorry for teasing you...I gotta do it for insurance purposes! Gotta keep you guys on your toes. ;)

** OveractiveImaginer - ***high five back* Woohoo! Just like the good old days, you reviewing my fics and all! I love it! :D Ooh, and I'm SUPER happy you noticed that my writing has gotten better. I mean, it HAS been, like, five years, but still. Thanks!

**Golden Forest** - Hey hey hey! Welcome to my newest fic! Glad to see another familiar face. And it makes me happy that you still love my old TR stories! YAY! :D And awww, I just saw your post on your profile suggesting people to read my stories. That's so nice of you! I love my fans. Haha. :)

**Now that the personal love messages are out of the way, on with the chapter!**

* * *

"It doesn't make sense," Dante mused, speeding down the empty streets of Limbo City. "Vergil and I defeated Mundus a month ago. How could he still be alive?"

Kat removed the hood of her sweater and sighed, closing her eyes. "I don't know, Dante," she said softly. "The only guess I can venture is that he's somehow managed to find a way to reach out from Hell to the human world."

"Somehow?" Dante asked, glancing at her. "Do you think Vergil would have ever been so ignorant as to miss a second loophole?"

"No, I don't," she answered, shaking her head. "Mundus must be using someone to do his work. He can't operate out of the netherworld on his own."

One horrifying thought suddenly crossed Dante's mind: glancing somberly at Kat, he asked, "Do you think Vergil is helping him?"

She lifted her head and met his gaze with worried eyes. After everything they'd worked so hard for, even despite the final outcome, would Vergil have gone so far as to team up with the same person who had ultimately destroyed his and his family's lives?

Kat slowly turned away, staring out at the road before them. "I…I don't know, Dante. It wouldn't make sense if he is, but I don't know who else would be bold enough – or stupid enough – to bring themselves that close to Mundus."

"Unless he's got an ace up his sleeve," Dante muttered. "He might be planning to stop Mundus after he's done using him for whatever it is they're doing."

He pulled the car onto the nearest on-ramp and sped down the empty back street. A few more turns and stoplights brought them home to the empty warehouse they had commandeered and taken refuge in. As Dante pulled the car to a halt, however, he noticed that the front door was wide open, and the front left window was shattered.

He and Kat fled the vehicle in record time, rushing through the open door into the house. Standing at the threshold, they observed the damage: every shelf and drawer had been overturned or upset, every cabinet had been ransacked, and the weapons cupboard had been completely emptied. A pile of swords, guns, and throwing knives lay on the floor in a heap of mess.

"What the hell happened here?" Dante breathed.

Kat carefully crunched over the shards of glass, bending down to retrieve Dante's only family photograph. She brushed away the broken glass and carefully removed the photo, handing it over to him. He stared down at it like it was his first time seeing it.

"Nothing seems to be missing," Kat said, continuing further into the warehouse. She bent down and poked through the scattered debris and loose articles. "All of the weapons are here." She rose to her feet and faced Dante with a surrendering shrug.

He looked up at her and drew in a silent breath, glancing around the room. "That's because whoever came didn't find what they wanted." He crushed the photograph in his fist and dropped it carelessly to the floor. "It had to be Vergil."

Kat frowned. "How would he know where to find us?"

"I'm sure he's got his ways."

"Well, what do you think he came for?"

"For this." Dante clasped at the amulet around his neck and held it up for her to see. "There's nothing in this shithole worth more than two cents – not even the weapons. But my amulet is something else."

"Why would he want yours when he has his own?"

He sighed again and ran a hand over his face. "I don't know."

"It might not be him, Dante…"

"Then who else could it be?"

She lowered her gaze, chewing on her bottom lip. "I don't know."

He lowered himself onto the nearby loveseat and leaned into his hands. What other explanation was there for demon attack and the burglary? Who else could be after them but Vergil? And why did he want the amulet?

Maybe Kat was right – they didn't know that it was Vergil for sure, and he didn't have any concrete evidence to prove that the amulet was the prize being sought. But it beheld such incredible demonic power – in the wrong hands, it could be dangerous. It was the only thing he had that was worth anything.

"Dante!" Kat exclaimed. He sprang to his feet and reached for Rebellion. Turning on his heel, he found himself facing a Dreamrunner standing in the doorway. Dante leapt high into the air, summoned Arbiter, and fired a surge of energy at the demon. The Dreamrunner disappeared into the safety of his reflective portal and reappeared at the opposite end of the room, directly behind Kat.

Dante drew back for another attack, but Kat stopped him. "Dante, wait!" she cried, positioning herself between him and the demon. "He's not here to harm us!"

Dante remained in place with his feet planted against the ground and Arbiter drawn back in his hands. "Get away from him, Kat," he warned.

The Dreamrunner rose to full height and held his scimitars before him in a coercive gesture. Then, he sheathed them. "I have a message to deliver from the Demon King," he said, his voice deep, chilling, and haunting.

"And you can send it right back," Dante growled.

"Dante, please," Kat scolded, offering him a pleading look.

After a hesitant moment, he drew back and sheathed Arbiter. He folded his arms over his chest and drew in a deep breath. "Alright. I'm listening."

"The Demon King requests your assistance," the Dreamrunner continued. "A common enemy is reawakening, and can only be silenced with your combined efforts."

"Oh, sure. I'll just go with you to find Mundus and we'll become best friends, just like old times."

"Mundus _is _the enemy," he returned.

Dante stared confusedly at him. "And I don't suppose you'd tell me who the Demon King is?"

"The son of Sparda," he replied. "Your brother, Vergil."

Kat shot him a horrified look. "How is that possible?" she demanded.

"Allow him to explain the events," the demon returned, "when you meet with him."

"When did I agree to that?" Dante asked, raising an eyebrow.

The Dreamrunner unsheathed his scimitars and pointed the sharp tip of one of the swords towards Dante. "When you allowed me to live upon my arrival."

Kat took a nervous step backwards. "I'm sorry, Dante," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he replied, waving a hand. "I was going to kill him anyway."

"Your compliance will be rewarded, Nephilim," the Dreamrunner said. "And your resistance will be met with the force of the entire demon realm."

"Wouldn't be the first time," Dante shrugged. Rebellion appeared on his back.

Almost immediately, the Dreamrunner leapt into the air and disappeared through a portal. Dante took Rebellion into his hands and turned on his heel, searching out the enemy. Directly across from him, the demon appeared through another portal, slicing his way through the air and impaling Dante in the chest with his feet.

Dante flew backwards, sliding across the slick floor until his head banged into a nearby cabinet. With a groan, he shook himself clean and rose to his feet. "Looks like I'm a little rusty," he said, cracking his neck.

The Dreamrunner tilted his head curiously and took two careful steps towards Dante. Then, the two went charging at each other. Dante narrowly blocked the demon's attack, and sparks flew as metal met metal. The Dreamrummer acrobatically managed to turn himself around to face Dante and disappear into another portal behind him.

Dante returned Rebellion to his back and drew Ebony and Ivory, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears strained for the sound of the approaching enemy. A warped tinny sound rang behind him, and he ducked just as the Dreamrunner toppled out of the portal, slicing his swords through the air.

Dante fired repeated at the demon, but he managed to block every attack without effort. He quickly redrew Arbiter and demon pulled the enemy, drawing him closer. Then, he leapt into the air and smash Arbiter into the ground, sending the demon flying into the air above the fault line of the tremor.

Despite the heavy attacks, the Dreamrunner managed to land on his feet. He advanced across the floor, slicing through the air with his dual blades. Dante dived out of the way just in time and found himself standing alongside Kat, who had ducked behind a cabinet for safety.

"I've got a plan," she whispered quickly. "I need you to draw him towards me."

"Kat, that guy will tear you apart!"

"Just do it, Dante!" she returned, removing the mystical stencil from the tube hanging on her back. "Keep him busy for another minute while I open the gateway."

Dante sighed and rose to his feet. As soon as he did, the Dreamrunner launched a blade in his direction like a boomerang. Dante dived out of the way as the blade sliced a cabinet behind him in half. Kat ducked her head just in time to avoid being beheaded.

Dante leapt across the room, making a zigzag pattern away from Kat. The Dreamrunner relentlessly chased after him, almost slicing off a finger or a hand on several occasions. Dante climbed the walls and leapt towards the second level of the warehouse, racing across the railing and sliding down the balcony until he was on his feet again. Still, the demon remained hot on his heels.

Finally, after what felt like a minute too long, he heard Kat cry for him. "Dante!" she called. He jerked his head towards her and saw that she had painted a gateway on the wall. The sparkling mist of the portal shined invitingly from the artistic glyph.

The Dreamrunner leapt towards him with his scimitars ready to pierce Dante's chest, and Dante drew his arm back. Then, he swung Rebellion wildly like a baseball bat, sending the Dreamrunner flying backwards. Kat ducked just as he flew overhead and disappeared through the gateway. She drew her spray can, shook it twice, and painted an X over the gateway, sealing it.

Across the room, Dante collapsed to the floor, still clasping Rebellion in one hand. "Remind me not to wish for anything exciting to happen again. Ever."

Kat exhaled and made her way towards him, offering him a hand. He rose to his feet and sheathed Rebellion. Together, they peered across the room at the gateway, as if they half-expected the demon to return. "He should have some fun in there," Dante said with a slight chuckle.

Kat was not amused. She faced Dante with serious eyes. "We're not safe here, Dante," she said quietly. "Vergil will send more demons our way until he gets what he wants."

"Then let them come," he replied firmly. "I don't know what Vergil is trying to do, but this definitely changes things."

"He wants our help to stop Mundus," she mused. "This isn't good, Dante. With both Vergil and Mundus flying around like loose cannons, Limbo City will end up in big trouble."

"Limbo City?" Dante scoffed. "This goes beyond that. With those two running loose, the entire human world had better watch out."

Kat sighed quietly and folded her arms over her chest. "So what's the plan, then?"

He stared at her with hard, determined eyes. "I say we let them go at it – kill each other. And then I'll take care of the winner."

"It won't be that easy," she warned. "Mundus has defied death, and Vergil is the Demon King now – he has more power than before, and an entire demon army at his side. If you end up facing him, you'll need to be prepared."

"If he's so strong and powerful, then what does he need my help for? He can face Mundus on his own."

"I don't know," Kat admitted, "but I don't suggest we find out. We need to lie low. Both Mundus and Vergil will make you a target when they're not busy with each other."

Dante grinned at her. "Well, if you want me so badly, Vergil" – he directed his challenge towards the ceiling and stretching out his arms in surrender – "then come and get me yourself!"

* * *

Vergil watched the scene unfold before his eyes, staring into the dark blue swirling mist of the portal. His veins pulsed with tremendous power, the power of the Demon King. The power of an entire supernatural army at his command.

Vergil glared into the portal, his blue eyes twinkling with both sadistic delight and genuine anger. There stood his brother, so arrogant and simplistic. It was a wonder his ego hadn't fallen him yet. How badly he wanted to reach his hand through the portal and squeeze Dante's heart into his fist until it stopped beating. How badly he wanted to destroy him…

But the time for Dante's downfall had not yet come, and it wouldn't until Vergil had used him to his full capacity.

"Oh, I will, brother," Vergil said in a low, dark voice. "And when I do, you'll wish you had accepted my cordial invitation."

* * *

**Read on for a special sneak peek taken from "Chapter 4: Reunited"**

_Vergil's blue eyes flickered with terrible delight, and his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "The demon realm bows to _me_ now."_

_Dante took a step back in disbelief. "That's what that demon meant, isn't it? About the Demon King requesting my presence?"_

_Vergil stretched his arms into a surrendering shrug. "You seem so surprised."_

_"I am surprised!" he shouted angrily, jabbing a finger at Vergil's chest. "You took up Mundus's place as the Demon King! You're no better than him!"_

_Vergil stepped closer to him, so that he was only mere inches away, standing eye-level and toe-to-toe with his estranged brother. "I'm everything he ever wished to be, Dante. I'm more powerful than Mundus. I'm even more powerful than Sparda." He leaned in closer to Dante and whispered, "And I'm more powerful than _you_."_

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**Sorry. It's not much of a sneak peek...just enough to keep you excited to see Vergil again. :) **

**See you next Friday! AND POST SOME REVIEWS! Good or bad! Just REVIEW! Please and thank you. :)**


	4. Chapter 4: Reunited

**In Pieces: **I wish I could tell you, but that would spoil some secrets! ;)

**Golden Forest: **I know, don't you hate that when you go back and read a story that's already finished and you can't review it while it's being written? Well, at least you can now! :D

**OveractiveImaginer: **I wish I could say he creeps me out, too, because he's a bad guy. But I'm still in love with him and always will be. I've even got a heart tattoo with "Vergil" written in it. Ha. (Just kidding).

**Happy Friday, everyone! Read on for the brotherly reunion!**

* * *

It had been Kat's idea to hide out somewhere other than home, but it had been Dante's un-incredible idea to spend the night in the car – which, as one would suspect, proved to be uncomfortable and unsettling.

The worst, however, came when Dante awakened the next morning.

Sleeping with a steering wheel between his legs made it difficult to get into any kind of comfortable position, but he had managed a few hours of shut-eye. Nothing said creepy like parking the car in the tunnel underneath the overpass where only stray animals and hobos dared to wander, but Dante's reasoning had been that Vergil was less likely to find them in the middle of nowhere – especially if they were ready to make a run for it. With every shudder of the wind, every chirping cricket, and every cooing bird, he found himself instantly awakened, reaching for the keys and ready to make a hasty departure.

When dawn's early rays awakened him, he stretched – as much as his limited space would allow him to – and opened his eyes carefully. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands. "It's morning," he said to Kat, who had made up a bed next to him in the passenger's seat.

But when he turned his head towards her, she wasn't there.

He instantly sat up and threw the car door open, stumbling out into the tunnel. "Kat!" he cried fearfully. He sprinted towards the bridge and back, hoping that she'd only gone out for a morning stroll or to find some food – but even if she had, why wouldn't she tell him about it? She _knew _how dangerous it was to be on her own, now of all times…

He returned to the car, jerking his head in every direction in search of his friend, but found nothing. "KAT!" he shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth.

A small voice in his head warned him: _If someone did take Kat, making yourself known isn't going to help. _But he couldn't control his racing nerves – especially when he noticed a trail of blood on the ground near the passenger's side of the car.

He instantly dropped to his hands and knees and swiped his fingers across the small puddle. Interestingly, it wasn't _human _blood – it was thicker, darker, gooey and sticky, and made his skin sizzle and tingle upon contact. It was demon blood. Kat must have put up a fight before being taken away. But how had they been able to take her without him knowing, or even hearing?

He rose to his feet and squinted his eyes – the trail continued in a winding pattern around the car and into the tunnel. He followed the bloody path, which continued until the darkness hid all traces, leaving Dante dumbstruck and, unfortunately, cornered.

The scratchy, tinny sound of demons awakening met his ears. He turned on his heel to face three Butchers, five Harpies, eight Elite Stygians, and one Dreamrunner. The Dreamrunner stepped forward, pointing his scimitars at Dante. "Come with us, Nephilim," he ordered.

Rebellion appeared on Dante's back. "Where is Kat?" he demanded angrily.

"Do not resist," the Dreamrunner continued. "You will only cause yourself more pain."

Dante reached for Rebellion and held it down at his side. "I'm counting on it."

He leapt from the ground and into the air, sending a surge of energy towards the Dreamrunner. The demon immediately dodged the attack, disappearing through its portal and reappearing directly behind Dante. It thrust its blade directly through his side, leaving him screaming out in pain. He tumbled towards the ground, arms flailing, and landed directly on his face.

The remaining demons gathered around him with arms and weapons raised. He was trapped.

He reached a hand towards the hole in his side and groaned. It wasn't deep, and fortunately hadn't pierced any organs, but it was still painful.

The Dreamrunner landed behind him and held his scimitars over Dante's neck. "Resist again," he said, "and she will be killed."

"She could already be dead," Dante groaned.

"Would you risk her life anyway?"

Dante stared down at his hands, defeated. After a moment, he shook his head. He looked up at the Dreamrunner. "Fine," he grumbled. "Take me. Do whatever."

And in an instant, his wish was granted - the Dreamrunner smacked him on the back of his head with the hilt of his sword, and he crumbled to the ground, unconscious.

* * *

When Dante finally awakened, his head ached and his limbs were incredibly sore. It was worse than any hangover he'd ever experienced, including the fact that he had absolutely no idea where he was.

Four thick, concrete walls surrounded him on all sides, boxing him into a room not much bigger than a closet. He ran his gloved hand along the walls, searching for some kind of seam that would reveal the trick door, but there was nothing. It was as if the room had been built and solidified around him.

"I don't know where you are, Mundus," he shouted, "but when I find you, I'm sending you straight back to Hell! And you can take _this _with you!" He flipped off the ceiling, gesturing to no one and nothing in particular. Somewhere, somehow, Mundus was watching him.

And somehow, Mundus had abducted Kat. _Again_. He had to get out of this box and find her.

But the voice that responded to his challenges was the last one he'd ever expected to hear. "Hello, brother."

Dante wheeled on his feet and turned around to face his twin. He took a surprised step backwards when he found that Vergil didn't exactly look like Dante last remembered – his white hair was slicked back, almost standing on end, and his blue eyes glowed with a stormy, swirling color of gray. His skin was pale except for his bulging blue veins. His hands rested on the hilt of his sword, Yamato. He stared at Dante with narrowed eyes and his lips pressed firmly into a tight line.

"You sure do know how to make an entrance, Vergil," Dante said.

Vergil's grip on the sword tightened. "And you sure do know how to fall for a trap."

"Where the hell am I?" Dante demanded, getting straight to the point. "And where is Kat? What have you done with her?" In the midst of his anger and fear, it had barely occurred to him that Vergil could be responsible for this - he'd been so set on coming face-to-face with Mundus, he hadn't even considered the alternate enemy.

"That doesn't matter," Vergil answered. "What matters is why I've called you here."

"Something to do with Mundus, right?" he asked dryly.

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "That's right."

"You working with him now, or what?"

Vergil scoffed and shook his head. "After everything we worked for, do you really think I would sink that low?"

Dante laughed humorlessly. "You'll sink as low as you need to. We were born out of Hell, after all."

His grip around the sword loosened and he took a step back, drawing in a deep breath. "Let's just get down to business."

Dante narrowed his eyes.

"What would make you think Mundus was behind any of this, besides the Dreamrunner having told you? Have you had any encounters at all?"

Dante scoffed. "What else was I supposed to think? There were demons in the streets yesterday, and some of them ransacked my place looking for God-knows-what. I'm sure under your orders...?"

"Those weren't demons, Dante," Vergil said flatly. "They were spirits. And no, I didn't ransack your place. Believe me: if I wanted something from you, I would get it."

Dante waved a hand. "Spirits, whatever. Spare me the vocabulary lesson."

Vergil glared at him. "The differentiation is important, despite what you think. And I'm sure you've already realized this." He titled his head to the side and stared at Dante with cold eyes. "Aren't you the least bit curious about where I've been for the past month?"

Dante shrugged. "I guess I've been too busy to think about it."

Vergil took a threatening step towards his brother. "I went to Hell and back."

"Figuratively or literally?"

"Do you know what I found?" He paused, drawing closer to Dante. "Our mother."

Dante's heart skipped a beat, and his expression softened despite his attempt to appear noncommittal. "Our mother?"

"And I left her behind."

His gaze dropped to the ground. He should have been angry with Vergil, but he was more confused and lost than anything.

Vergil had seen their mother, had been able to interact with her before abandoning her entirely. Dante would never be able to chance upon that possibility now.

"You left her behind," Dante whispered. "Why?"

Vergil shrugged carelessly. "It doesn't matter. Mother isn't important."

"Then what is?" he demanded angrily.

"What I discovered on the way to her." His blue eyes flickered with terrible delight, and his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "The demon realm bows to _me _now."

Dante took a step back in disbelief. "That's what that demon meant, isn't it? About the Demon King requesting my presence?"

Vergil stretched his arms into a surrendering shrug. "You seem so surprised."

"I _am _surprised!" he shouted angrily, jabbing a finger at Vergil's chest. "You took up Mundus's place as the Demon King! You're no better than him!"

Vergil stepped closer to him, so that he was only mere inches away, standing eye-level and toe-to-toe with his estranged brother. "I'm everything he ever wished to be, Dante. I'm more powerful than Mundus. I'm even more powerful than Sparda." He leaned in closer to Dante and whispered, "And I'm more powerful than _you._"

Dante ran a hand through his hair, completely exasperated. "Shit, Vergil. Hearing you talk about it was one thing. Seeing it with my own eyes is different."

"Don't pretend like you care, Dante," Vergil spat hatefully. "You chose humanity over me, your own brother."

Dante paced in a small circle, cracking his knuckles. "So why did you bring me here, then? To kill me?" He stopped and stretched out his arms in surrender. "Go on and do it."

Vergil reached for the hilt of his sword and glared at Dante. One thousands hateful, painful thoughts raced through his mind.

But then, he released his sword and straightened up. "What great relief it would bring," he said, "but I didn't bring you here to kill you. I brought you here to help me."

Dante laughed. "Why in the hell would I help you?"

"Because if you don't, _she _will die."

Vergil stretched a hand behind him, gesturing at the dark blue orb of energy that appeared on cue. The image of Kat appeared in the swirling mist. Her wrists were bound in chains over her head, and her head bobbed against her chest as she struggled to remain conscious. Several cuts and bruises spotted the exposed skin on her arms, legs, and face.

"Kat," Dante breathed, advancing towards the orb of energy. Vergil sliced a hand through the mist, causing it to disappear before he could reach it. Dante collided with the concrete wall before him. He pressed his hands against the flat surface and drew in choppy, short breaths. "What have you done, Vergil?"

"She seems to be the only thing that matters to you," Vergil replied. "And I need your help. I didn't see any other way."

"She was your friend, too," Dante said carefully. "She trusted you and loved you, just like I did."

Vergil stared blankly at him. "None of that matters anymore, Dante."

Dante wheeled on his feet and faced his brother, fuming with anger. In spite of his rage, he managed to remain even - no matter how difficult it was. "What is it that you want me to do?"

Vergil cracked a vague smile, evidently pleased with Dante's compliance. "Mundus is rebirthing, and he is after us."

"Us?" Dante asked dryly.

"He seeks my power, and your destruction," Vergil answered. "But he needs something in order to achieve either of those things."

Dante stared expectantly at him.

"The Force Edge," Vergil continued. "Sparda's choice weapon, a powerful broadsword infused with indestructible power. Whoever wields it is nigh immortal."

"So go find it yourself."

Vergil chuckled dryly. "Why would I risk my neck when I could risk yours?"

Dante grinned bitterly at him. "So you want me to hunt Mundus down and stop him, then."

"Exactly," Vergil said. "And when you do, I'll release Kat, and all will be well."

"And what are you going to do while I'm tending to Mundus?" Dante asked. "I trust you'll keep Kat safe. It is in your nature, after all, to be honest and forthright."

"Kat will remain unharmed so long as you comply with my demands. She'll be safe here with my minions."

Dante shook his head and laughed. "I never thought I'd ever hear those words come out of your mouth, Vergil."

"Meanwhile," Vergil continued on, "I must hunt down Castor Price and discover the location of the Force Edge."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "Castor Price?"

"Mundus's new pet," Vergil replied. "Mundus sent both Castor and the spirits after you yesterday. That was not my doing."

"Well, that's good to hear," Dante said dryly. "Knowing that the Demon King didn't sick any of his hellhounds on me makes me feel so much better."

"Watch yourself, brother," Vergil warned darkly. "I know you could care less about yourself, but Kat's life is the price you carry on your sleeve. Don't test me."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Dante returned with a glare.

A long, silent moment of tension passed between them before Vergil continued. "Find Mundus and destroy him. Do this for me, and I'll pardon all of your other…_insurrections_."

"How noble of you," Dante said. "I'll stop Mundus for you, so that you can find the Force Edge and control the rest of the world. Isn't that what you want?"

"Don't fret too much about it," Vergil said simply. He took casual steps towards Dante, his eyes feasting upon the amulet around Dante's chest. "After all, if I didn't need you, you'd be completely useless." He reached a quick hand up and yanked Dante's amulet away from his neck. Dante swung a hand towards him in protest, but Vergil teleported to the back of the room. He held the amulet above him, allowing it to flicker beneath the ceiling light. A tiny smile crept over his lips.

"Give that back," Dante demanded.

Vergil lowered it to his chest and clasped his hand tightly around the stone. "Oh, I will. Without it, you're just a child with a bad temper and a sword." He reached his hand up, still clasping the amulet tightly. "How easy it would be for me to control you, though. To just kill you right now, and get rid of one thorn in my side…"

His grip around the amulet tightened, and Dante groaned in pain, collapsing to his knees on the ground. His essence existed within that amulet, almost like a voodoo doll that Vergil presently controlled. He could feel his chest caving in, like all of the oxygen in the world had been sucked out. Vergil towered over him with a twisted smile as he watched Dante grasp absently at his chest, struggling for breath.

"But" – he loosened his grip entirely and lowered his arm, releasing Dante from the physical torment – "there is work to be done before that."

Dante drew in slow, deep breaths as his vision steadied and stopped wavering. Vergil dropped the amulet to the ground before him and took a step back, watching him with a dark, proud smirk.

Dante reached a shaking hand towards the amulet and grasped it tightly in his hands, drawing it to his chest. "I want to see her first," he said in a shaky voice. "I want to know she's okay."

Vergil sighed quietly. "I suppose I could allow that." He took a step towards Dante and reached a hand out, his palm face-down and parallel to the ground. "On your feet, brother."

Dante wearily rose and met Vergil's dark gaze. _If only I had killed you when I had the chance, _he thought darkly. Then, all of his problems would be gone. Both he and Kat would be safe, and Mundus wouldn't have the means to resurrect.

But he couldn't change the past. All he could do now was find a way to stop both Mundus and Vergil before they collapsed the world together.

Dante reached forward and covered Vergil's hand with his own. Suddenly, a dark blue orb of energy encompassed them and swallowed them whole. Heaviness enveloped his entire being and an intense pressure surged through his veins as he teleported through the indefinite.

The next thing he knew, he was in an entirely separate room altogether. A small closet-sized room directly across from him blocked him from reaching Kat, but he could see the agony she waited in through the glass windows. Inside of her cell, two Death Knights stood on either side of her, braced for attack. Outside of the cell, two Frost Knights and two Hell Knights stood guard at the door.

Dante's heart skipped a beat, and he advanced towards the cell door. The two Hell Knights groaned and crossed blades, blocking his path. "Get the hell out of my way!" Dante shouted, and Rebellion materialized along his back.

"There's no need to be rash," Vergil said coolly. He waved a hand at the Hell Knights, and they stepped back, allowing for Dante to approach the door. The metal door automatically rose as he drew closer, retracting into the ceiling. He entered the cell and locked his eyes upon Kat's limp form. As he drew closer, the Death Knights shoved their shields forward, causing him to stagger backwards. He reached a hand for Rebellion, but Vergil stopped him. "Careful, Dante," he warned.

He could take the Death Knights out with the blink of an eye, but Vergil would prove to be a formidable adversary. Unlike their last encounter, he had the entire demon realm on his side now. He couldn't risk Vergil's recklessness. As much as he wanted to finish what he had started one month ago and strike him dead, Kat's life wasn't worth the retaliation.

He slowly lowered his hand, and Rebellion disappeared altogether. He glanced back at Vergil, and Vergil nodded towards the Death Knights. They stepped back, allowing Dante to approach Kat. He reached a hand towards her face and lifted her heavy head. She groaned in pain, and her eyes flickered.

"Kat, it's me," he said nervously. "It's Dante. You're going to be alright."

Her eyes slowly opened, heavy with despair. "Dante?" she muttered.

"Kat, I'm sorry. You're in here because of me."

She lifted her head and stared past him at Vergil. "No," she whispered. "I'm here…because of him…"

Dante turned on his heel and faced Vergil with angry eyes. "The least you could do is unchain her. She can't get out with the demons guarding her, anyway."

"Worry about yourself, Dante," Vergil replied. "No one will harm her unless I give the orders."

Dante faced her again and looked her over with desperate, helpless eyes. "Mundus is returning," he said quickly, "just like we suspected. And he's after me and Vergil."

"You can't help him, Dante," she said. "Vergil is just using you."

"That doesn't matter. What matters is getting you out of here and stopping Mundus."

"Dante, you've already protected me once. It's time you let me go. I'm not worth this."

"Don't talk like that," he said firmly, reaching a comforting hand towards her cheek. "You're the only friend I have, and I'll be damned if the Demon King thinks he can take you away from me."

Behind him, Vergil narrowed his eyes.

"Mundus is after something called the Force Edge," Dante continued quickly. "It's Sparda's weapon, and if he gets ahold of it, even Vergil won't be a match for him. We've got to beat him to it."

She lifted her head and gazed at Vergil again, glaring coldly at him. "Mundus isn't the only problem, Dante. Watch your back."

"That's enough," Vergil interrupted. "I think you have some work to do, Dante. We both do. And the sooner you get on with it, the sooner your dear friend will be released."

After a hesitant, reluctant moment, Dante turned away, leaving Kat behind him. He glared at Vergil as he brushed past him and moved through the door. "I'll be back for you, Kat," he called over his shoulder. "Just hang on for a few days."

Kat managed a small, appreciative smile before he emerged from the cell. The door whooshed shut behind him, and the demon knights resumed their positions blocking the door.

Dante took a silent moment to collect himself before facing Vergil once more. "So do you have any ideas about where I can expect to find Mundus?"

"The most I've gathered is that he is operating through another Hellgate," Vergil replied. "If he was alive and well, he wouldn't need a toy like Castor Price. You'll have to find the Hellgate portal and destroy it. Without the portal, Mundus is trapped in the netherworld."

Dante shrugged. "And where might this portal be?"

"On an island outside of Limbo City called Fortuna," Vergil answered. "I believe Mundus will eventually use the Hellgate to transfer his power to Castor Price. Find the Hellgate and destroy it before he transfers all of his power to Castor and resurrects completely."

"You're the one who wants the Force Edge so badly," Dante said dryly. "Think you could help out?"

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "I'll deal with Castor Price. Mundus is your responsibility. Besides, if I find the Force Edge first, Mundus won't stand a chance against me. And then you can run home with Kat and carry on with life like nothing ever happened."

"I should be so lucky," Dante retorted, "that you would let me go that easily."

Vergil smiled wickedly at him. "I guess you'll find out when the time comes."

Dante rolled his eyes. "The title of the Demon King definitely boosted your ego, didn't it?"

Vergil stared coldly at him for a long moment. Then, he reached his hand forward. "I'll send you to Fortuna and spare you the travel expenses. Once you get there, you're on your own."

"An entire island away," Dante mused. "Gives you plenty of space to wreak havoc on Limbo City, doesn't it?"

"If you're so worried, then maybe it will give you an incentive to move more quickly."

Dante sighed. "Whatever. Let's just get on with this."

He reached his hand forward, drew in a deep breath, and covered Vergil's hand once more. They locked eyes for a moment, and then a rush of dark blue energy swallowed Dante whole.

As he floated across time and space, one thought consumed his mind: _Hold on, Kat. I'll be back for you._

* * *

**Read on for a sneak peek taken from "Chapter 5: The Kid"**

_Dante had just dragged himself to his feet once more when another spirit immediately rushed towards him. He drew back and stood his ground, prepared for another fight, while the remaining spirits hovered by on the sidelines. Did they mean to pick him off, one at a time?_

Come on, you son of a bitch_, he thought as the spirit came for him. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, and he drew his brow down in focus. _Come on. I'm ready_._

_But as soon as it was near, it disappeared with a shriek. He stood awe-struck and dumbfounded as he watched a cloaked figure emerge seemingly from nowhere, sliding across the slick dirt before him and slicing at the air. The remaining spirits cried out in anger, obviously displeased with having their fun interrupted._

_Dante's ally rose to full height and drew back with the sword in his hands, seemingly unaffected by the spirit's post-expiration torment. Dante still could not make out his features or his face in the darkness, but he wasn't about to turn down some help – especially if the spirit's memories didn't affect him._

_In a frenzied rage, the spirits surged forward together at once, going after both Dante and his mysterious accomplice. With every spirit that he cut down, Dante found his strength weakening, as if his Devil Trigger was being sucked dry. His friend, however, seemed to gain strength when he expelled a spirit. He wheeled on his feet, turning this way and that, throwing the weight of his broadsword around like he had performed this dance many times before._

_He sliced through the air one final time, shredding the last spirit. Then, he drew himself upright and sheathed his sword with his back to Dante. He wore a black, floor-length hooded cloak, completely concealing himself from Dante's view. When he turned to face Dante, his face was covered with a silver mask, almost similar to Vergil's. Dante instinctively reached for Rebellion once more._

* * *

**Who is Dante's mysterious ally? And is he an ally at all, or does he mean harm?**

**I guess you'll have to find out next week! Send me some of your much-appreciated reviews, please and thank you! :)**


	5. Chapter 5: The Kid

**OveractiveImaginer: **Why, yes. Yes it could work both ways. And I don't remember what I put, but I'm pretty sure I meant whatever is there. I actually look these chapters over before I post them (unlike I did with the TR stories...and then I endured some TERRIBLE PAINT!) Haha. I'm glad you're so observant, though - it keeps me diligent with perfecting my work! :D

**Golden Forest: **Yes! Go play some DMC! Start with the old ones...you'll love them no matter which one you play. And I'm glad you like the sneak peek thing. It's a way to keep people interested in the stories. It seems to be working! Helps people know I'm actually going to post the next chapter, rather than leave the story hanging forever like some authors on here do. I hate that.

**In Pieces: **I found him to be quite sexy after he became corrupted, haha. I've been in love with Vergil since day one, though. He's actually the reason I started playing the DMC series. I struggle to keep that fangirl-ness out of my stories. Haha.

* * *

Dante tumbled head over heels, rolling down the steep side of the grassy cliff. Vergil's teleportation tricks didn't suit him so well, a thought that filled his mind as he rolled over sharp rocks and wet grass.

When he finally came to a halt, he lay face-up on his back, staring up at the puffy gray clouds. Thunder rumbled overhead, signaling an approaching storm. With a sigh, he rose to his feet and brushed himself off. "Great," he muttered. "A storm. That will definitely make things fun."

He turned and faced the spread of Fortuna city resting below in a valley. At the heart of the city stood a tall stone cathedral, with a gated, uninviting fence surrounding it. Squinting his eyes, he could make out a graveyard that lay behind it, stretching far into the distance. Tall buildings lined the remaining streets of the city, like guardians with a secret to hide.

If the Hellgate was anywhere in Fortuna, then the cathedral definitely had something to do with it.

So, that was where he would head first. With a sigh, Dante made his way down the steep, descending dirt path leading off to the right. Lacking Vergil's convenient powers of teleportation was definitely irritating – acquiring them would be first on his to-do list after settling scores with both Mundus and his brother.

The path wound down through a dense forest of tall, clustered trees that stretched so high, they blocked what little sunlight managed to reach through the storm clouds. The darkness and damp, misty air were accompanied by the occasional suspicious scurrying of a woodland creature – or something worse – and the warning hoots of owls. Clearly, the city had been built beyond the forest for a reason: someone wanted to keep strangers out.

Although Dante didn't scare easily, something _did _make him stop in his tracks. He carefully peered over his shoulder as the sound of cool, chilling whispers arose all around him. He instantly reached for Rebellion and held it down low at his side.

He hated to admit it, but he preferred the demons to the spirits – at least with the demons, he knew what he was getting himself into. And admittedly, the spirits were much more creepy and challenging.

An ear-splitting shriek erupted on his side, and he swung his sword blindly in its direction. The spirit dispersed in a cloud of parting mist, narrowly evading Dante's attack.

"Bastard," he muttered. "Why don't you face me like a man?"

Unfortunately, he got his wish. All around him, the spirits began to materialize in the hazy white glow of inhuman, ghostly apparitions. Their empty eyes gazed upon him, waiting for him to make a move.

But before he could, one of the spirits – who appeared to be the leader – reached out his hands and cried out in a deep, dark voice. The ground rumbled, and from the cracks split in the earth came forth a hoard of Elite Stygians.

Dante exhaled and slouched. "Come on," he sighed. "That's cheating. It isn't fair."

The Stygians crawled to their feet and stood protectively before the spirits. Ironically, Mundus himself couldn't control the demon realm in any way, but his spirits could. If Dante wasn't involved, he might laugh at Vergil's misfortunes.

But as it was, he _was _directly involved. So he mustered a sigh, cracked his neck, and drew Rebellion back. The demons immediately advanced on him, leaping forward like faulty springs.

Of course, Stygians – even the Elites – were no match for him. But the amount of attackers increased gradually as the spirits hung by on the sidelines, repeatedly summoning forth more demons from beneath the earth. Unfortunately, there was power in numbers, a feeling which slowly began to wear Dante down.

He took a wild swing, sliced a demon in half, and drew back, heaving in relief. He'd defeated the lesser demons and now had only to deal with their bosses. He pointed a finger at the first spirit. "It's your turn now!"

The spirit shrieked and coiled into a dizzying circle before surging forward after Dante. He turned on his heel and sliced through the air, narrowly managing to slice into the heart of the spirit. The spirit released a painful cry and disappeared altogether.

Unfortunately, Dante had forgotten the disclaimer that came with defeating the spirit – immediately, his mind flooded with haunted, tormented memories of a life one never should have lived. Waves of betrayal, anger, pain, and sadness consumed him, bringing him to his knees. The remaining spirits released cooing purrs of pleasure as they watched Dante weaken. If defeating one spirit had caused that much agony, how could he defeat them all?

He'd just dragged himself to his feet once more when another spirit immediately rushed towards him. He drew back and stood his ground, prepared for another fight, while the remaining spirits hovered by on the sidelines. Did they mean to pick him off, one at a time?

_Come on, you son of a bitch, _he thought as the spirit came for him. His grip on the hilt of his sword tightened, and he drew his brow down in focus. _Come on. I'm ready._

But as soon as it was near, it disappeared with a shriek. He stood awe-struck and dumbfounded as he watched a cloaked figure emerge seemingly from nowhere, sliding across the slick dirt before him and slicing at the air. The remaining spirits cried out in anger, obviously displeased with having their fun interrupted.

Dante's ally rose to full height and drew back with the sword in his hands, seemingly unaffected by the spirit's post-expiration torment. Dante still could not make out his features or his face in the darkness, but he wasn't about to turn down some help – especially if the spirit's memories didn't affect him.

In a frenzied rage, the spirits surged forward together at once, going after both Dante and his mysterious accomplice. With every spirit that he cut down, Dante found his strength weakening, as if his Devil Trigger was being sucked dry. His friend, however, seemed to _gain _strength when he expelled a spirit. He wheeled on his feet, turning this way and that, throwing the weight of his broadsword around like he had performed this dance many times before.

He sliced through the air one final time, shredding the last spirit. Then, he drew himself upright and sheathed his sword with his back to Dante. He wore a black, floor-length hooded cloak, completely concealing himself from Dante's view. When he turned to face Dante, his face was covered with a silver mask, almost similar to Vergil's. Dante instinctively reached for Rebellion once more.

The man stood facing him, as if studying him, with his hand rested on the hilt of his sword. Dante was going to ask what the hell his problem was when a white glow appeared behind the man, surging towards him on a wind current. "Watch out!" Dante shouted.

But the man did not move quickly enough – turning on his heel, he stood still and dumbstruck, watching as one remaining spirit came for him. Dante summoned Osiris, yanked himself to the spirit's side, and sliced him in half. He landed on his feet before his ally, who stumbled backwards and collapsed on his back. Dante clutched at his head, trying to suppress the final waves of pain. With a grunt, the man's sword fell out of his hands, and his mask fell off of his face.

Once Dante had recollected himself, he turned to face his accomplic, finding himself staring down at a boy who couldn't have been much older than eighteen or nineteen years old, but his icy blue eyes carried the worries and pains of someone much older. His sandy, light brown hair hung in tendrils over his forehead, and his mouth was set in a tight grimace.

Dante sheathed Rebellion and reached a hand towards his ally. "Not bad, kid," he said. "At least up until I had to take over."

The boy retrieved his sword with one hand and took Dante's with the other, rising to his feet. Then, he snatched up his mask and tucked it into the folds of his cloak. "Well, it looked like you could use some help," the boy said.

Dante laughed. "You're the one who ended up on the ground."

The boy sheathed his sword and glared. "Because of you."

Dante waved a dismissive hand. "Alright, then. I'm sorry. Is that what you wanted?"

"No," the boy denied. "I want to help you."

Dante raised an eyebrow. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm better off on my own. I don't think you really understand what you're volunteering for anyway."

The boy scoffed and smirked. "Demon hunting. I've been doing it my whole life."

"Is that so?" Dante asked curiously.

"Since I was a kid." He lowered his gaze for the briefest moment and wrapped a hand around the hilt of his sword. "A demon named Mundus killed my family."

"Mundus?" Dante asked. "You know who Mundus is?"

"He's the one you're after," the boy answered. "And I'm after him, too. I want to make him pay for what he's done."

Dante laughed dryly. "Mundus isn't just any demon, kid. He was the Demon King."

"Was?"

"Before my brother and I defeated him, and before my brother took his place."

"Your brother," he repeated. "Vergil."

Dante narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"The Order of the Sword in Fortuna worships your father, Sparda," he explained. "The Nephilim, Dante and Vergil, aren't any less known than he is. I never imagined I'd ever actually meet either of you, though…"

"Well, I'm the good twin," Dante said with a grin. "My brother, not so much."

"What do you mean, he took Mundus's place?" he continued on.

"Just that," Dante replied. "Vergil controls the demon realm. And unfortunately, he's got me on his payroll right now."

The boy took a nervous step backwards and unsheathed his sword halfway.

"But don't worry," Dante said, chuckling. "It's not by choice."

He narrowed his eyes. "Then by what?"

Dante averted his gaze and shuffled his boot into the dirt. "Leverage."

He stared at Dante for a long moment before sheathing his sword again. "So he's using you to stop Mundus."

"Exactly," Dante said slowly. "You're sharper than you look."

He glared. "I'm not an idiot. I've been looking for Mundus for years now. I just couldn't ever get out of Fortuna. The Order keeps a close watch on the city."

Dante sighed and cracked his neck. "Well, rest assured, kid: I will take care of Mundus for you." He turned on his heel and continued down the path he had originally set out on, waving a goodbye over his shoulder to the boy. "And once I do, I'll send you an eyeball or a limb so you know it's –"

Suddenly, the boy appeared directly before him through a glowing red-orange portal. Dante staggered backwards, and Rebellion appeared on his back. The boy drew his sword and pointed it at Dante. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Dante stared at him with wide, surprised eyes. A smile slowly crept over his lips. "You have demon blood."

The sword wavered in the boy's hands, and a thousand conflicting thoughts seemed to be racing through his mind. Finally, he lowered his weapon. "For as long as I can remember, I've been this way – more powerful and resilient than others. I don't know what other explanation there could be." He sheathed his sword and swallowed nervously. "I guess it would also explain why I can absolve the spirits without taking a hit for it."

"Yeah, that _was _an interesting trick," Dante commented slowly. Rebellion disappeared as he drew closer. "Who did you say you were?"

"I didn't," the boy said. He hesitated before reaching a hand out. "I'm Tristan Elliot."

Dante tentatively shook his hand, staring at the boy in concern. "And who was the demon – your mother or father?"

Tristan drew back, offended. "Neither of them. My parents were upstanding people."

"I'm sure they were. But that doesn't change who _you _are. You got your demon heritage from someone."

Tristan lowered his gaze and his cheeks flushed. "I don't know."

Dante stared at him for a long second. As far as he and Vergil had known, the only ones – besides the demons and Mundus – to possess demonic power were the Nephilim, and there were only two Nephilim. So what did that make Tristan?

Dante knew he couldn't risk leaving Tristan behind, despite how badly he wanted to – if Tristan couldn't properly control his powers, he could be a loose cannon. He could wind up like Vergil.

But the idea of taking on a pet – er, apprentice – seemed absolutely ridiculous, especially given the circumstances. He didn't have time to train a sharp-mouthed teenage boy. He needed to reach Mundus before either he or Vergil discovered the Force Edge. With a kid tagging along, he might get slowed down. And Kat might not live through another day.

He looked at Tristan, at the weight behind his eyes and the raw craving for vengeance. If not properly managed, _he _could be ambushing Dante or one of his friends several years from now, demanding that Dante go on some wild goose chase to do God-knows-what.

Dante turned on his heel and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He allowed for a brief moment to collect himself before facing the kid again with a forced smile. "Alright, kid. If you think you can keep up, then you can come with."

Tristan's eyes flickered with delight. "Really?"

"No, I'm joking."

He glared at him.

Dante shrugged. "Anyway, I have a feeling you won't let me walk off without at least challenging me to a duel. Which I would win anyway…"

"Don't be so sure," Tristan retorted. "Although I'm saving most of the good stuff for Mundus. I want his head on a platter by the time this is over."

Dante stepped closer to him and met his gaze. "I just hope you know what you're getting yourself into. There's a chance you could die, and I'm not going to be responsible for whatever happens to you."

Tristan stared at him. "I don't need you to protect me. I just need you to help me."

Dante shrugged, surrendering. "Well, okay. I guess I can't argue with you."

Tristan took a step back, finally relaxing. "So I assume you know where to go."

"To the Hellgate," Dante replied. "Do you happen to know where it is?"

Tristan appeared uneasy for a brief moment. "Yeah. It's in the graveyard behind the cathedral. But it's heavily guarded by the members of the Order. They keep watch around the clock in case Sparda should ever choose to make an appearance again."

Dante chuckled dryly. "That won't be happening anytime soon. But I guess I should applaud their devotion."

"I'll take you there," Tristan continued, "but be ready for a fight."

Dante grinned at him. "I'm always ready for a fight."

* * *

**Read on for a sneak peek taken from "Chapter 6: The Amulets"**

_For a moment, he felt like he was dreaming, like he had suddenly been knocked unconscious and was drifting along the sweet clouds of sleep. The world around him gradually disappeared, until he found himself standing on a flat, gray plain, with nothing but white space surrounding him._

_His first thought was that he had been returned to Limbo, but this place was nothing like Limbo. He felt safe and protected here, like no one and nothing could harm him._

_Then, from out of the white backdrop emerged his brother. Vergil took casual steps towards him before stopping and resting a hand on the hilt of Yamato._

_Dante sighed irritably. "Just when I thought I would get some peace and quiet."_

_"I called you here, Dante," Vergil replied, ignoring his snarky remarks. "The power of the amulets allows us to meet here, where neither of us can harm the other."_

_"Damn," Dante muttered. "I was hoping I could test out your new title."_

* * *

**Again, it's not much of a sneak peek, because the following chapter is short. BUT! That means you will be in for a special surprise...one that you won't find out about until next Friday! :)**

**Until then, read and review, please! **

**Oh, and In Pieces (again): Sorry that you didn't get to see Nero! But Tristan is, in essence, my OC version of Nero. Take him with a grain of salt, and you might like him. :)**


	6. Chapter 6: The Amulets

**In Pieces: **Ooh, Tristan definitely has an interesting background. You'll just have to wait to see! :D

**OveractiveImaginer: **Yeah, he's a cutie in my head, too. ;) Yes, Nero is the starter character in DMC4. Idk, I just didn't really want to use him. I do like him, but I wanted an OC in there somewhere. And honestly, putting Fortuna in there as a secondary setting was really just a spur-of-the-moment idea that ended up working out wonderfully.

**GoldenForest: **Aw, thank you! :) That really means a lot! I definitely try, ha! Whenever I'm a published author, you'll be on the list of people to receive the first release (free) copy. :)

**Short chapter ahead, everyone! But once you're finished, read on for that special surprise I told you about! :)**

* * *

It had definitely not been an appealing option, but both Dante and Tristan needed sleep. By the time he had reached Fortuna, the sun had already begun to set, and by the time he and Tristan had recollected themselves, night was closing in even more.

They had taken refuge in an abandoned apartment building for the evening, staking their makeshift beds in opposite corners. "We'll rest for a few hours," Dante had told the kid. "And _only _a few hours." Fortunately, Tristan had seemed as eager to get the show on the road as Dante was. Every second they wasted was one second closer to the Force Edge being recovered – and to Kat's death. In spite of how exhausted he was – and in spite of how much he _needed _rest – he couldn't bring himself to sleep. Too many heavy thoughts weighed on his mind.

With a sigh, Dante sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs. He looked across the room at Tristan, who lay slumped against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his sword across his lap. Dante envied the way rest came so easily to him – nowadays, he barely managed a few hours each night.

_Tristan Elliot. _The name echoed in his head like a warning. _Who _was he, and where had he come from? Dante rarely became nervous or uneasy about anyone or anything, but the way the kid seemingly popped out of nowhere – and with demonic power, at that – set him on edge.

Their meeting wasn't just a chance encounter. On some deeper, cosmic level, he and Tristan had found each other for a reason. He just didn't know what that reason was yet. But the closer he kept the kid to his side, the less likely he was to fall off the deep end and follow in the steps of someone like Mundus or Vergil. By the time everything was over, he would know _exactly _who Tristan Elliot was. There was a puzzle piece missing somewhere – he only needed to figure out where.

Dante's eyelids had just begun to droop when a low humming noise awakened him. He jerked his head upright and looked around the room, but found nothing. Tristan hadn't moved, and there was no one and nothing in sight. Rebellion flickered on his back for a brief moment before he relaxed.

And then, he heard the noise again. He jumped to his feet and drew his trusty sword, his eyes darting in every direction. The room suddenly brightened with a red hue, and then the light died down. Feeling rather stupid, he exhaled upon realizing that the humming noise was coming from his amulet.

He sheathed his sword and removed the amulet from around his neck, lowering himself to the ground once more. Tristan stirred in the corner and sleepily opened his eyes. His hand carefully went towards his sword. "Something wrong?" he muttered.

Dante stared down at the amulet as it continued to hum and brighten. "No," he returned. "Go back to sleep."

Tristan stared at him for a long moment before complying. He released his sword and readjusted his position, returning to the wonderful, blissful protection of sleep.

Dante clasped the amulet tightly in his hands, his eyebrows knit together in concentration. He could have _sworn _he'd seen something inside the stone – a face, to be precise. The more he stared at it, the more it began to materialize, until he knew for a fact that there _was _a face inside the stone.

For a moment, he felt like he was dreaming, like he had suddenly been knocked unconscious and was drifting along the sweet clouds of sleep. The world around him gradually disappeared, until he found himself standing on a flat, gray plain, with nothing but white space surrounding him.

His first thought was that he had been returned to Limbo, but this place was nothing like Limbo. He felt safe and protected here, like no one and nothing could harm him.

Then, from out of the white backdrop emerged his brother. Vergil took casual steps towards him before stopping and resting a hand on the hilt of Yamato.

Dante sighed irritably. "Just when I thought I would get some peace and quiet."

"I called you here, Dante," Vergil replied, ignoring his snarky remarks. "The power of the amulets allows us to meet here, where neither of us can harm the other."

"Damn," Dante muttered. "I was hoping I could test out your new title."

"Have you found any leads on the Hellgate yet?" Vergil asked evenly.

Dante grinned at him. "Actually, I have. It's being protected by the Order of the Sword. Fortunately, I have a guide to take me straight to it."

Vergil raised an eyebrow. "A guide?"

"New kid," Dante replied. "His name is Tristan Elliot." He purposely left out the little tidbit about Tristan's demonic power – for both his and Tristan's sakes.

Vergil's expression hardened. "You're collaborating with a human?"

Dante shrugged carelessly. "He knows the ins and outs of Fortuna. Better than me wasting time hunting the Hellgate down on my own, don't you think?"

"I think you're foolish for getting others involved," Vergil retorted, "but you can deal with that on your own."

"We're going to the Hellgate in a few hours," Dante continued. "It's under heavy guard, but we'll manage. Once there, we'll destroy the damn thing." He ran a hand over his face and stared at Vergil curiously. "So have you got any leads on Castor Price?"

"Yes," he replied. "I've been following him since we parted ways, actually. And he has no idea about it, either." He paused. "I also have something on Mundus, if you're interested."

"Well, that would be nice to hear, since I'm the one who has to face him…"

"He's gaining power from the netherworld," Vergil continued on, "although I don't know how. It definitely isn't being supplied by Castor – he's just a mere human."

"You underestimate humans," Dante warned.

Vergil vaguely rolled his eyes. "Regardless, it throws a wrench in the works. If we don't know who or where the power is coming from, defeating him won't even matter if we don't destroy the source. Time is of the essence, more-so than before."

"I like to think you gave me the hard job because you think I'm capable," Dante said dryly, "and not because you hope I'll die in the process."

"Sorry, brother," Vergil replied with a helpless shrug.

"You know I can't just let you walk off and take the Force Edge with you, Vergil," Dante pointed out. "I'll see you at the finish line one way or another."

"I look forward to it," Vergil said, narrowing his eyes.

Dante sighed and shook his head in disappointment. "Are we done here? I could really use some shut-eye before I run off to kill Mundus for you again."

Vergil continued to glare at him. "I'll check back with you later. Just keep in mind what I told you."

"Interesting little trick," Dante commented, fumbling the amulet in his hands, "using these to spy on me."

"I prefer to think of it as supervising."

"Call it what you want," Dante shrugged. "I'll just remember to be on my guard." He removed the amulet from around his neck once more and stared deeply into the stone before he was interrupted.

"And, Dante?" Vergil said.

Dante looked irritably up at him.

"Be careful with the kid."

Dante glared at him before returning his attention to the amulet in his hands. The rushing, relaxing sensation of dreaming overcame him once more as he fled Vergil's presence and returned to the stale stench of the rundown apartment building in Fortuna.

* * *

**Read on for a special sneak peek taken from "Chapter 7: Keep Your Eyes Open"**

_Tristan took careful steps towards the sword and reached a hand forward, his eyes wide and his mind entranced._

_"So it's true," an old, frail voice remarked behind him. "Tristan Elliot has come back to Fortuna."_

_Tristan's hand froze halfway to the sword. He knew that voice, even if he hadn't heard it in almost five years._

_"What have you returned for, Tristan?" the man questioned._

_Carefully, he turned and reached for the hilt of his own sword. He found himself facing Sanctus, the leader of the Order. He stood before Tristan in his traditional white robe, crimson and gold scarves, and ceremonial headpiece. He folded his frail hands before him, and his sad eyes peered at Tristan with inquiry, as if he feared Tristan's next moves._

I should have killed you when I had the chance, old man_, he thought darkly. So much torment that man had caused him, so much grief. _I should have killed you nine years ago.

_"You know why I've come back," Tristan returned ominously._

_Sanctus nodded. "For the devil's arm, of course." he said softly. "But why now, after five years?"_

_Tristan carefully made his way towards him and unsheathed his sword, pressing the tip of the blade at Sanctus's heart. "I guess I was just waiting for the right provocation."_

_"What provocation, have you?" he asked calmly. "I called off the Holy Knights' pursuit of you long ago. You've been free to do as you please."_

_"Then what the hell do you call your little crystal ball over there?" he demanded, nodding towards the empty shrine._

_Sanctus lowered his droopy eyes. "Does it matter?" he asked quietly. "For the past three years, you've been gone from us. You could have left Fortuna if you wanted."_

_"Leave Fortuna?" Tristan scoffed. "Without saying goodbye?"_

_"Ah," Sanctus said sadly. "You've come to kill me, then."_

_"Why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "For four miserable years, you locked me up in Fortuna, kept me away from my family. And then what happened, Sanctus? Because I wasn't there to protect them –" He shoved the blade through the old man's chest, leaving him gasping and choking for air – "THEY DIED!"_

_He yanked the sword out of his chest, and Sanctus collapsed to his knees. He clutched at his bleeding wound and squeezed his eyes shut, groaning in pain._

* * *

**So maybe Tristan isn't as much of a good guy as we think he is? I guess you'll have to find out!**

**Again, sorry it was such a short chapter. But as promised, I owe you guys a surprise: the next chapter will be posted on this coming Monday, June 3. So you only have to wait three days! This is probably a bad idea, since the entire story is considerably short, but I care about you guys. So I'm doing you a nice one. :)**

**So as always, please read and review! And I'll see you on Monday! ;)**


	7. Chapter 7: Keep Your Eyes Open

**Golden Forest: **You'll just have to wait a while until it's officially published. Who knows how long that will take? =P

**OveractiveImaginer: **Oh...uh, yeah! That's totally what I was doing! (Not...) I just came up with that on my own, ha.

**Here we are, Monday morning (my time)! Read on and enjoy!**

* * *

When Dante and Tristan awakened from their short naps, the sky was still darkened by the night and lit by the moon. The sun would rise in a few short hours, and the quicker they moved through the dark, the better chance they had at getting to the Hellgate unnoticed.

"So this Order of the Sword thing," Dante began as they trekked across a barren forest path toward the cathedral in the distance. "What's the story?"

Tristan shrugged, stepping over a fallen tree. "Like I said, they worship Sparda. They believe him to be the true Demon King, that one day he'll come back and free humanity from demonic oppression."

"Sounds like a load of horseshit."

Tristan glanced curiously at him. "I think it is, too," he replied, "but I keep my mouth shut. People have been known to disappear if they go against the Order. In fact, one just disappeared recently. His name was Castor Price."

Dante stopped dead in his tracks. "Did you say Castor Price?"

Tristan faced him with confused eyes. "Yeah. What about him?"

"He's working for Mundus."

"How do you know that?"

"Vergil told me. He's looking for Castor as we speak. Mundus plans to resurrect through Castor's body."

Tristan resumed his pace after a moment, and Dante followed in his steps. "Sounds like he wanted to get out, then, rather than having been sent away," Tristan said. "I don't know much about him, other than the fact that he was a member of the Order. And that on the night he disappeared, four dead guards were found outside the Hellgate." He hesitated for a moment, frowning in concentration. "Now that you mention it, though, I'm sure his membership was a front to get to the Hellgate and reach Mundus. The Order wouldn't suspect one of its own."

Dante chuckled dryly. "How's that for irony."

"Why do you say that?"

He waved a hand. "Nothing. It just proves to be a small trump card over my brother."

Tristan was silent for a moment before asking, "What made your brother turn against you?"

Dante's mind flashed to their last encounter, where he had driven Rebellion straight through Vergil's chest – almost to the point of death. If Kat hadn't been there to stop him, Vergil wouldn't be alive. "He's power-hungry," he replied hollowly. "He would give up anything and anyone to get what he wants. And so he did."

"Is he trouble?"

Dante glanced at him. "He can be, if we don't reach the Force Edge in time." Before Tristan could ask, Dante continued, "The Force Edge was the sword that belonged to Sparda. With it, Vergil will be unstoppable. He and Mundus are racing for it, and I've got to beat them to it."

"And what do _you _plan to do with it?"

He hadn't thought much about that – what _would _he do with the most powerful weapon ever to exist? He certainly couldn't wield it – if he did, even for protection and order, he wouldn't be any better than Vergil. The power would corrupt him, he was sure of it. The only person who deserved to put their hands on it was Sparda, and that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

So what would he do with it? Well, he would have to find a way to destroy it – if that was possible.

But he wasn't ready to discuss such a delicate matter with Tristan. Not yet, anyway. So, he said, "I don't know. I'll cross that bridge when I get there."

They stopped walking at the edge of the forest and found themselves standing about a mile away from the front of a tall cathedral. The cathedral roof was lined with stone spokes, lending an eerie, dark appearance to what should have been welcoming and comforting. A black wrought-iron gate lined the cathedral's perimeter, sealed shut at the entrance. Four sentries stood guard outside the gate with swords sheathed at their sides.

Dante and Tristan crouched behind the trunk of a large tree, peering out at their enemies through the low, hanging branches and small boulders. "Members of the Order," Tristan pointed out. "I'm sure they're no match for either of us, but we don't want to raise the alarm. Not yet, anyway."

"The Hellgate is in there?" Dante asked skeptically.

"In the graveyard behind the cathedral. It's hidden in one of the mausoleums. But I'll bet my right arm that there are five times more guards inside." He glanced at Dante. "We should split up. It might be easier."

Dante gazed suspiciously at him. "Trying to get rid of me already?"

Tristan rolled his eyes. "You'll just get in my way."

Dante laughed dryly.

"You will," Tristan persisted. "I know my way around the cathedral. It's easier to move on my own."

"Is that so?" Dante asked with a smirk. "And how exactly do you know you're way around this place?"

Tristan swallowed nervously. "I've been here before."

Dante narrowed his eyes. "Alright. You can tell me later."

Tristan glanced uneasily at him before explaining his plan. "You can sneak through the gate onto the cathedral grounds, but the only way _into_ the graveyard is through the cathedral."

Dante sighed. "Into the belly of the beast we go."

"I will distract them," Tristan continued, removing the silver mask from within his cloak. "They've been looking for me for a while now, so it would be an appropriate alarm if I showed up. You will have to sneak your way through the cathedral and into the cemetery once I've cleared the path ahead."

Dante watched him carefully as he pulled the silver mask over his face. "You're awfully willing to do something so dangerous for someone you just met."

"I've got business to settle with the Order," he replied, his voice muffled through the mask. "And I'm not afraid of anyone here. Besides, when we get to the Hellgate, destroying it will be _your _problem. I can only get you to it."

Dante nodded slowly. "So that's why you wear the mask."

Tristan sighed quietly. "I've caused some…_problems_…for the Order before," he responded. "I'm one of their most wanted."

"Is the Order really that bad?"

"They're extremists," Tristan replied darkly. "The citizens of Fortuna see them as guardian angels. But, me?" He rose to his feet and unsheathed his sword. "I don't give a damn. My reasoning is that anyone who protects a demon isn't a friend."

Dante smirked at him. "Is that so?"

He lowered his head and fumbled with his sword. "Well…besides us, I suppose."

Dante rose to his feet and clapped Tristan on the shoulder. "You'll learn the rule of things soon enough, kid. Until then, just make sure you're swinging your sword at the right people."

Dante set forward through the forest, leaving Tristan staring confusedly at him. "What? Are you saying the Order is _right_ in what they're doing? You don't even know the half of what they're up to."

"I'm saying," Dante replied, turning to face him, "that everything isn't as it seems. I never knew my father, and I sure as hell wouldn't waste my time protecting him. But before you go on a witch hunt, make sure you know who the enemies really are. These people in the Order are just puppets – the real enemy is the one hiding the secrets of the demon world, using the power for himself."

Tristan folded his arms over his chest. "You're not talking about me, are you? You're talking about yourself."

Dante hesitated before turning away and resuming his path. "It's easy to get lost in this world, kid," he called over his shoulder. "Be sure to keep your eyes open."

* * *

Tristan watched as Dante made his way across the rolling hills and towards the front of the cathedral – like he owned the place. Unfortunately, Tristan couldn't deny that he had a certain pizzazz that protected him like a shield – or a guardian angel. Wherever he went, whatever he did, he would end up okay.

But Tristan wasn't so sure he could say the same about himself.

He stood tall, drew in a deep breath, and set forward along the winding path through the forest that would lead him to the side of the cathedral. If Dante had any chance of getting inside without being noticed, Tristan would have to raise the alarm from the outside. Of course, the guards wouldn't _all _abandon their posts inside – some would be on their toes, while others went outside to investigate. That would give Dante about six minutes to get through the cathedral and into the grave yard. Likewise, that would give Tristan six minutes to beat the living crap out of every member of the Order that he could.

He had performed this routine before, except without help – and that time, he had been trying to get _out _rather than in. With one of the Nephilim twins on his side, the Order didn't stand a chance – at least, he hoped.

After five minutes of stealthily making his way through the outlying forest, he reached the tall stone wall. He ran a gloved hand over the cobblestone and looked up at the spiked railing. He remembered nearly losing an arm to it, after cutting himself on the barbed wire and later finding that it had been basted with some kind of synthetic poison. He'd almost lost a limb that day.

With a sigh, he sheathed his sword. Then, he bent his knees and leapt as high as he could. He clutched at the stone wall and carefully began to hoist himself up, avoiding the poisoned wire. The wire was settled exactly twelve inches above the top of the wall, wide enough to pull himself through. He ducked his head awkwardly and pulled himself through the gap. The barbs caught the edge of his cloak, but the material was too thick for it to pierce through – _thank God, _he thought.

He pulled his legs through the gap and over the fence. Then, he dropped himself to the ground on the other side. He immediately ducked behind one of the nearby shrubs and watched the guards casually pacing the entryway of the cathedral.

Tristan sneaked his way around the side of the cathedral and scaled the wall until he reached a low window. He pulled himself inside into the empty hallway and carefully peered in both directions, watching out for any approaching knights. After determining his safety, he crept up the stairs higher into the cathedral.

The truth was, both he and Dante probably could have gotten into the cathedral grounds and made their way into the cemetery unnoticed. But he had something else he needed to do before helping Dante find the Hellgate – something that he'd been waiting to do for five years. It wouldn't take long, and he'd be killing two birds with one stone.

As he neared the top of the stairs, he unsheathed his sword and hugged the wall. He could hear voices and footsteps beyond, casual conversation between two or three guards in the adjacent hallway. One was close to the entrance of the hallway – the other was at the far end.

He listened carefully as the closest guard paced near the mouth of the hallway. He counted his steps – _one, two, three _– and drew in a deep breath. Then, he emerged from his hiding space, positioning himself directly behind the nearest guard. He crept quietly behind him, remaining unnoticed until he pressed the tip of his sword against the guard's back.

The guard stiffened and reached for his sword. "Don't move," Tristan warned.

"W-Who are you?"

The guard at the other end had reached for his sword. Tristan drew closer to his hostage and wrapped a hand around his neck, squeezing it so he couldn't breathe. "If you say anything," he shouted across the way, "if you so much as breathe, I'll kill him. And I will kill you, too."

The guard shuffled his feet nervously and released his weapon, looking behind him for some kind of invisible salvation.

Tristan pressed the blade harder into the guard's back and marched him forward, his hand still tight around his neck. He nodded towards the large, hanging bronze bell in the center of the hallway. "Sound the alarm," he ordered to the other guard.

The other guard hastened towards the bell and immediately yanked at the rope. Five loud _dongs _echoed through the cathedral, followed by shouting and cries of panic. The guard stepped back and stared at Tristan with wide eyes, hesitantly reaching for his sword once more.

"Which way to Sanctus's chambers?" he demanded.

The guard reached out a shaking hand and pointed to the hallway behind him that led deeper into the cathedral. "At the top of the stairs," he said quickly, "down the right hallway."

In one swift motion, Tristan shoved his captive forward onto his hands and knees. He stepped back, pointing the tip of his sword at the guard on the ground as he continued to back away.

The guard scrambled to his feet, unsheathing his sword and stepping to his comrade's side. "Who are you?" he asked again.

Tristan pushed the mask up on his face, and both of the guards gasped. "Tristan," the first guard whispered. "Tristan Elliot. You…You're –"

"Still alive, yes," Tristan returned darkly. He pushed the mask over his face once more and lifted his blade again, carefully walking towards them. "And I'm not alone. There is a man outside the front of the cathedral, waiting for me. He's the Nephilim – the son of Sparda."

"You expect us to believe that?" the second guard demanded, although he seemed uncertain.

"You're going to believe it," Tristan replied. He disappeared and reappeared in an orange cloud directly behind them. They gasped and backed away, pointing their swords at him despite the distance between them. "Because if you don't, I will kill you where you stand." He backed away towards the staircase behind him. "Now go find my friend and deal with him. If I'm still here by the time you get back, you can do with me what you will."

The guards glanced nervously at each other.

"GO!" Tristan shouted, thrusting his blade towards them.

They scampered off like frightened puppies, rushing down the hall and out of sight.

_Good, _Tristan thought as he made his way up the stairs. _That should keep them off both our trails, at least for a few minutes._

In the distance, he could hear more shouting and even louder ringing bells somewhere on the cathedral grounds. He knew their foolish security measures all too well: the Holy Knights would position themselves outside the cathedral, in front of the cathedral, and in the main foyer. They would never suspect that the intruder had come from within. By the time they discovered that it was Tristan who had upstaged them, he and Dante would already be gone.

But he needed to find Sanctus first. He had taken something from him long ago, and he wanted it back. He wouldn't leave Fortuna without it.

He trudged up the stairs two at a time before reaching the dark hallway. At the end of the hallway stood an oaken door with intricately carved patterns lining it from top to bottom. At the very center of the door was a keyhole – and Tristan didn't have a key.

_No problem, _he thought. He reached his hand forward and watched as his forearm morphed into dark orange scales. His fingers stretched a full inch longer, and his fingernails became sharp, black talons.

He made a fist and shoved it through the center of the door, destroying the keyhole completely. Then, he pushed the door open and entered, his hand returning to normal.

The chamber room wasn't incredibly big, like he'd always imagined it would be. A bed draped with a gold chiffon canopy and made with gold sheets was positioned along the back wall. Two stained-glass windows were positioned on either side of the bed. In the center of the room stood a shrine with a glowing orange ball – the same device Sanctus had used to keep track of Tristan nine years ago.

Tristan ran a hand fondly over it, peering into his reflection. It had been one of Agnus's inventions, a tool used to monitor Tristan's every move so that he belonged to the Order no matter where he went. Fortunately, Tristan had found a way to counteract such a task three years ago – Sanctus couldn't keep his thumb over him once Tristan learned how to teleport. Thankfully, Agnus hadn't been able to predict _that. _

_Fucking creep, _he thought, thoroughly disgusted. That old man had kept a watchful eye on him since he was nine years old.

His demonic arm reformed, and he placed his hand over the orange ball. The ball brightened and grew warmer. Then, a crack split down the middle of it, and all light and color immediately extinguished. With a dark smirk, he knocked the ball off of the shrine. It thumped loudly against the floor and rolled into the darkness behind a nearby shelf.

Then, he turned and faced his prize, what he had really come back to the cathedral for: Aetherius. The sword hung on the wall, like a misplaced, valuable gem one might find at a thrift shop. It was embellished in black from blade to hilt, as dark and powerful as Tristan imagined they came. His family had held onto it since he was a child, promising to give it to him when he was old enough. The weapon beheld every memory he'd ever yearned for – the truth about who he really was.

And now, he would have access to those memories. Now they would belong to him.

He took careful steps towards the sword and reached a hand forward, his eyes wide and his mind entranced.

"So it's true," an old, frail voice remarked behind him. "Tristan Elliot has come back to Fortuna."

Tristan's hand froze halfway to the sword. He knew that voice, even if he hadn't heard it in almost five years.

"What have you returned for, Tristan?" the man questioned.

Carefully, he turned and reached for the hilt of his own sword. He found himself facing Sanctus, the leader of the Order. He stood before Tristan in his traditional white robe, crimson and gold scarves, and ceremonial headpiece. He folded his frail hands before him, and his sad eyes peered at Tristan with inquiry, as if he feared Tristan's next moves.

_I should have killed you when I had the chance, old man, _he thought darkly. So much torment that man had caused him, so much grief. _I should have killed you nine years ago._

"You know why I've come back," Tristan returned ominously.

Sanctus nodded. "For the devil's arm, of course." he said softly. "But why now, after five years?"

Tristan carefully made his way towards him and unsheathed his sword, pressing the tip of the blade at Sanctus's heart. "I guess I was just waiting for the right provocation."

"What provocation, have you?" he asked calmly. "I called off the Holy Knights' pursuit of you long ago. You've been free to do as you please."

"Then what the hell do you call your little crystal ball over there?" he demanded, nodding towards the empty shrine.

Sanctus lowered his droopy eyes. "Does it matter?" he asked quietly. "For the past three years, you've been gone from us. You could have left Fortuna if you wanted."

"Leave Fortuna?" Tristan scoffed. "Without saying goodbye?"

"Ah," Sanctus said sadly. "You've come to kill me, then."

"Why shouldn't I?" he demanded. "For four miserable years, you locked me up in Fortuna, kept me away from my family. And then what happened, Sanctus? Because I wasn't there to protect them –" He shoved the blade through the old man's chest, leaving him gasping and choking for air – "THEY DIED!"

He yanked the sword out of his chest, and Sanctus collapsed to his knees. He clutched at his bleeding wound and squeezed his eyes shut, groaning in pain.

Tristan paced before him with hateful eyes. "You trapped me here, and for what?" he continued heatedly. "So Agnus could run your little experiments on me? So you could hope to _destroy _the demonic power within me?"

Sanctus wheezed, collapsing against the wall behind him. He slowly lifted his head towards Tristan, his eyes empty. "You couldn't begin…to understand…" he heaved, "…the truth about yourself…"

Tristan bent down near the old man, leaning against his sword for support. "Then enlighten me."

"The world needed to be spared," he grunted. "To be spared…of you…" He struggled to summon a deep breath. "I regret nothing, Tristan. You were born a devil, and always will be one. And if I hadn't been so foolish…I would have killed you the moment I learned the truth about you. But I…I couldn't bring myself to do it. I craved your power, Tristan…so much so, that I allowed you to live…but out of my own insincere affections."

Tristan stared expectantly at him, barely blinking.

"You know the truth about your family's death," he continued, struggling for breath like a fish out of water. "Mundus was responsible."

"And what else?" Tristan persisted.

"You were raised…by humans," he said, his voice growing weaker. "But you were not conceived by humans. Your birth parents…they are demons."

Tristan's heart skipped a beat.

"You want to know the truth about yourself?" Sanctus asked, managing a dark chuckle. "Fine. You can have it." He lifted a shaking finger and pointed to the weapon behind Tristan. "But once you learn it…you will wish you had thanked me for sparing you the burden of knowledge for the past nine years."

Tristan repositioned himself, leaning closer to the old man. "That weapon belongs to _me_," he whispered darkly. "And any knowledge that comes with it does, as well."

"Yes," Sanctus nodded. "It does belong to you, as it belonged to your birth father." He managed another amused chuckle. "Your heart is as black as his, and it will _destroy _you. And when it does, I will see you in Hell."

He continued to alternate between choking and chuckling, until finally he stopped moving altogether. He remained lifeless, with a half-smile frozen on his face and his eyelids drooping.

After a moment, Tristan returned to his feet. He faced the weapon on the back wall once more, his heart heavier than it had been moments ago.

He had never killed another man in his life, even one who deserved to die. For what Sanctus had done to him, he deserved much more than death – and hopefully, where his blackened soul was headed, he would receive it.

Tristan had thought that killing him would make his heart lighter, would free him from the pain he'd been carrying since he was taken in by the Order nine years ago, but it had incidentally made everything worse. He glanced back at the deceased old man, and sickness overtook his stomach. He swallowed to avoid losing it right there in the chamber room.

_You did what you came to do, _he told himself. _And we're not finished yet._

He closed his eyes, counted to ten, and then reopened them. There was still work to be done, and Tristan needed to regroup with Dante. That was most important – even more important than the hell he'd gone through to recover his rightful weapon, Aetherius.

He drew in another deep breath and reached for the weapon. It was much heavier than the cheap sword he'd been toting for the past several years, and obviously meant for more than just hacking and slashing.

He held the sword laterally before him, observing the shine of the black blade and the black hilt. _Your heart is as black as his._

For a moment, he didn't want the sword, and he definitely didn't want to know who his father was. He imagined it would only tear him from the inside out.

But he had come all this way for Aetherius, and he couldn't afford to leave it behind. Whatever demonic power lay within him, only the sword could unleash it.

He closed his eyes and willed his soul to connect with the sword. An intense, rushing sensation spread over him, and for a moment, he was lost in oblivion. He traveled through a dark funnel cloud, looping up and down like a bad rollercoaster, before finally coming to a halt in another dimension.

The world around him was black as night, and an eerie, chilling mist swirled past him. He could hear faint whispers on all sides, like pleas from the dead. Wherever he was, he wanted out of there.

But in the distance, he saw the figure of a man. Carefully, Tristan made his way towards the person, calling out, "Hello?"

The man remained motionless, clothed in a dark cloak with the hood pulled over his head.

Tristan stopped just feet away from the stranger, gazing curiously at him. "Hello?" he called again. "Can you tell me who you are?"

The man slowly lifted his head, and a dark smile spread over his lips. He was broad, both in the chest, the shoulders, and the stomach.

Finally, he lifted his head all the way. Tristan gasped and backed away, tripping over his feet and falling onto the ground.

"Son," the man said, stretching out his arms. "After all this time, you've finally found me."

* * *

**So who is Tristan's father? I guess you'll have to find out later!**

**Alright, everyone. I'm sorry to say that I am cutting the sneak peeks from here on out. From this point on, things get intense. And I wouldn't want to take away from the moment when you actually read the chapter. Don't hate me...**

**But besides that, read and review! I will update the next chapter ON MONDAY. Not on Fridays anymore. I don't want to post three chapters too closely together.**

**See ya then! :)**


	8. Chapter 8: The Hellgate

**Golden Forest: **Ha, sorry. But that just gives you more to look forward to when Monday finally come!

**OveractiveImaginer: ** Naw, but what you said did make sense. But I was sitting there trying to figure out which chunk of text to include as a sneak peek and I was just like, "I can't use this, I can't use this, I can't use this..." So I just decided to cut it. And that funnel cloud I did take from the game, but not the white space.

**Okay, things are heating up! Read on!**

* * *

The loud ringing of a bell echoed across the cathedral property, followed by panicked voices and hustling footsteps. Dante pulled himself into the corner of the building, hiding himself safely in the shadows. He watched as guards rushed past him and down the stairs, shouting orders out at each other.

_Well done, Tristan, _Dante thought with a grin. With the guards gone, it was smooth-sailing to the Hellgate. Once the coast was clear, he pulled himself out of the corner and made his way down the long hallway across from him.

The kid was a lot more suspicious than he was comfortable with, and he didn't doubt that Tristan might be trying to play him, but so far he had proven his worth. Now if only he could figure out _where _the hell he had come from, all would be well – at least, he hoped.

The hallway stretched through the second story of the cathedral and into the outdoor plaza behind the church. He stopped at the railing and peered down below, where he could see the grave yard stretching on for seemingly endless miles. Headstones lined the property in an infinite direction, until he couldn't see where they ended. Tall oak trees flanked the sides of the property, their scraggly, sharp branches reaching over the grounds like hands. Here and there stood a few stone mausoleums, some with angelic statutes positioned on the roofs and others empty. Apparently, there were elite even among the dead.

Dante followed the balcony to the left, making his way down the descending staircase and to the ground floor. The sky was tinted with a soft purple hue, signaling dawn's approach. He needed to move more quickly – the night provided his only cover.

He could hear the chilling whispers of the dead bouncing across the backdrop of the early morning's sky. No wonder Castor had chosen to resurrect Mundus in a graveyard – it was the only way Mundus could control the dead, since he could no longer control the demon realm.

As Dante walked the outlying path of the headstones, white mists began to appear on all sides. Spirits formed into their rightful shapes, though they lacked the strength to fully emerge. From the lumps of earth that buried the dead, the spirits crawled forward and stretched their hands towards Dante.

He took a nervous step back as the spirit's cold touch brushed against his leg. _Nephilim, _it hissed. _Free us…_

Dante thought that it was a decent arsenal, using the dead as his army, but it was also disgusting. These lost souls only did as they were told, with no hope for anything better or beyond.

"Poor bastards," Dante muttered, turning away from the pained spirit. As he continued down the path, more spirits reached out to him, begging for salvation and rest.

He did his best to ignore their pleas and continued forward. He inspected each of the mausoleums he passed, but no kind of demonic power drew him forward – not until he reached the one that stirred his insides.

He froze in his tracks and stared forward at the stone building and the fading, rusting metal door. Something powerful lay within it, something that could only be the Hellgate. He took cautious steps forward, and the currents of power within him grew stronger. His amulet began to flicker, confirming his suspicions.

He stopped, however, when he noticed a dusty nameplate above the door. He ran a hand over the nameplate, brushing off the cobwebs and dust to reveal a cryptic message:

_Here, the spawn of the World shall rest_

_by the guiding hand of Sparda._

Dante stared curiously at the message. His spawn? Just what the hell did _that _mean? Clearly, _this _was the location of the Hellgate – besides the fact that _mundus _was Latin for "world," Dante could feel the demonic power coming from beyond the door, begging to escape.

But his spawn? As far as Dante was aware, he had defeated that bastard child long ago, the child of Mundus and Lilith. Had the Order meant to have that hell-child lain here, where they could keep an eye on it? Where Sparda could easily destroy it and leave it to rest if he ever came back?

Clearly, the Order was beyond deranged – to have a reserved grave facilitated for the child of their god's sworn enemy was a sadistic form of boasting. _Well, to each his own, _Dante thought.

But then, why had Castor chosen to re-forge the Hellgate in _this _particular place?

Dante shook his head clear and sighed. Whatever the reason – for any of it – it didn't really matter. All he had left to do was go inside and destroy the Hellgate. Then, he'd find Vergil and put him in his place. He didn't care about the Order of the Sword or their unhinged beliefs. He only cared about finishing up this job so he could get back to Kat.

The sound of footsteps approaching startled Dante out of his concentration, and he wheeled on his feet with Rebellion at hand. Tristan staggered backwards and lifted a pair of surrendering hands, watching the tip of the blade warily.

Dante sighed irritably and sheathed the weapon. "Sneak up on me again, and it might be the last time you do it."

Tristan exhaled and pushed the mask up onto his head. "Sorry," he muttered.

"What the hell took you so long?" Dante asked. "I was starting to think you got caught, or worse."

"I got caught up with some stuff," he responded uneasily.

Dante raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. He turned to the mausoleum and shoved the door open.

"Hey," Tristan said, stopping him. He turned and faced his ally to find him observing the nameplate over the door. "What is this?"

Dante waved a dismissive hand and turned back towards the entrance. "Jibberish," he replied. "Nothing important, I'd say."

"Nothing important?" Tristan asked in a pleading tone.

Dante shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

Tristan pressed his lips into a tight line, shaking his head after a hesitant moment. "Nothing," he answered. "It's just…interesting. Mundus had a child, and the Order knew about it."

"Yeah, but I took care of that son of a bitch a while ago," Dante returned with a grin. "So like I said: it's nothing important."

"What do you mean?"

Dante shrugged confusedly. "Just like I said: I took care of it."

"You killed a child?" Tristan asked nervously.

"It wasn't exactly a child. It was more like a wild beast with a baby's face and an elephant's body."

Finally, he turned away from Tristan and entered inside. After a moment, the kid followed him.

They entered into the darkness as the creaking door sealed shut behind them with a heavy thud. Dante reached for a lighter in his pants pocket and illuminated the small room, exposing every cobweb and every spider. He turned to face the giant slab of stone positioned along the back wall. "So this must be it," he sighed. He ran a hand against the flat stone, examining it for any indicators of how to destroy the damn thing.

He turned towards Tristan with curious eyes. "How exactly did you know the Hellgate would be here?"

Tristan sighed and lowered his gaze. "I guess I owe you an explanation," he muttered. He drew in a deep breath to collect himself before beginning. "When I was about nine years old, my parents discovered my demonic power. They brought me to Sanctus, the head of the Order, to ask for his help. They thought maybe I was like Sparda, and if I was, then Sanctus ought to have been welcoming of me. Well, his response was to lock me up and have his chief alchemist, Agnus, run tests on me. They told my parents they were 'looking after me' the entire time, so my parents never questioned why I was here for so long."

"Tests?" Dante asked.

"For lack of a better word," Tristan returned. "Then, five years ago, my family was killed."

"By Mundus."

Tristan looked away. "Right. And that's when I decided to make a run for it. I escaped the Order and went into hiding. I know more about the Order than I wish I did."

Dante shook his head and sighed, returning his attention the Hellgate. "Sounds like that Sanctus guy was a real dick."

"He was," Tristan agreed. He hesitated before adding, "That's why I killed him."

Dante faced him with concerned eyes. "You what?"

Tristan looked away again, reaching for his sword. He unsheathed it and held it before Dante for him to see. "This sword belonged to me, and my father before me," he said. "My real father, anyway – the demon. And Sanctus took it when my parents brought me to the Order, kept it for himself so he could unlock and control its demonic power."

Dante stared at him, unconcerned with the sword. "You killed a man for a sword?"

Tristan lowered his head, embarrassed. "It belongs to me," he said quietly.

Dante ran an exasperated hand over his face. "Shit, Tristan."

"What?" Tristan demanded defensively. "After what he did to me, he didn't deserve any better."

"Maybe not," Dante agreed, "but did killing him fix anything?"

Tristan narrowed his eyes. "Why should you care?"

"I care because –" Dante exhaled, cutting himself off. He faced Tristan again, jabbing a finger at his chest. "You need to watch yourself, kid."

Tristan smacked his hand away. "I told you before: I don't need you to protect me."

"And I told you I wouldn't," Dante returned. "But I can't risk you being so reckless."

"Like you wouldn't have done the same?" Tristan asked angrily. "Like you're not already doing the same, going after both Mundus and Vergil?"

"To make things right," Dante corrected him. "To protect humanity. Not for my own selfish gain. I could have killed my brother, but I let him go."

Tristan looked away after a second, defeated. "I guess that makes you more of an angel than a demon, doesn't it?"

"I'm not going to babysit you," Dante continued, ignoring him. "But if you're going to be a liability, I can get rid of you right now."

Tristan glared at him for a long moment, holding his firm gaze before looking away.

Finally, Dante sighed. "So that's why you were so willing to face the Order alone."

"I don't owe you an explanation," Tristan muttered.

"No, you don't. But my life is on the line just the same. The next time you do something stupid, you fill me in _before _you do it." He reached a hand forward, gesturing for the sword. "Now let me have a look at that thing."

Tristan carefully handed over his weapon, allowing Dante to examine it. He held it before him and looked it over from tip to hilt. "I've never seen anything like it," he said. "What's it called?"

"Aetherius," Tristan replied.

"And it belonged to your father?"

Tristan nodded.

Dante handed the sword back to him. "So your real father was a demon. Did you find out who he was?"

Tristan fumbled clumsily with the sword, sheathing it at his side. "No, I didn't."

Dante shrugged. "It's probably better that way," he said, turning back to the Hellgate. "You don't want to be stuck cleaning up your father's mess like me."

Tristan's stomach curled. He needed to tell Dante what he had seen – or _who _he had seen, rather. But if he did, it could ruin everything he had worked so hard for, and Dante was the best shot he had at avenging his family's death. He couldn't risk losing his trust. Unfortunately, though, even the truth about his family seemed clouded now.

He wished he could forget the memories he'd recovered upon finding Aetherius. He wished he could rewrite his past, rewrite who he was. But he couldn't. He was stuck with himself and his terrible family ties.

"So this is what Castor has been using to summon Mundus," Dante mused, interrupting Tristan's thoughts. He stepped back and examined the Hellgate. "Well, there's only one way to ever really kill a demon."

He summoned Rebellion, and in one quick movement, thrust the blade forward through the stone.

Suddenly, a burst of red energy erupted beneath the blade, and the earth beneath their feet began to quake. A loud, deep voice erupted from the Hellgate, shouting in what could only be pain.

Dante immediately withdrew the blade and stepped back, watching as cracks formed on the face of the stone. A thick, vertical crack split straight down the middle of the stone, continuing through the ground and across the mausoleum floor. Dante and Tristan quickly sidestepped the fault line, watching in horror as wisps of white mist emerged from the cracks.

The spirits shrieked and dispersed, flying in lost circles across the ceiling of the mausoleum. After gaining their bearings, however, they forced their ways through the walls, disappearing altogether.

Tristan exchanged a horrified glance with Dante. "What have we done?" he breathed.

Dante stared down at the weapon in his hand. "Vergil was wrong," he said darkly. "We didn't destroy Mundus – we released him."

* * *

**This is why it's always good to do your homework.**

**So I'll catch you guys next Monday! Get ready to see Vergil again! :)**


	9. Chapter 9: The Demon King's Bane

**Hello everyone! And happy Monday...or as happy as a Monday can be! Read on for some pretty intense stuff!**

* * *

For two days, he had been struggling to fulfill his oath to Mundus. Two days, just as he'd promised. And since he hadn't fulfilled that oath, he found himself jumping at shadows, hardly sleeping, and reaching for his sword with every thump and every bump he heard in the night.

He had failed the Prince of Darkness – he'd never been able to find the amulets, and without the amulets, he couldn't restore the power of the Force Edge. Castor knew what his punishment would be: certain death. Mundus would torture him until he was begging for his end, and then he would torture him a little more before appeasing the request.

There was only one possible way he could escape his death sentence: by fleeing Fortuna completely. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

Castor climbed out of the taxi and pulled the collar of his trench coat up around his neck to shield himself against the cold rain. Thunder rumbled overhead, and dark gray clouds hung high like an ominous warning. He lifted an arm over his head in attempt to keep himself dry, hastening towards the other side of the street.

He fumbled clumsily with a handful of keys, his hands shaking the entire time. Someone was watching him – he could feel it. If Mundus wouldn't dispose of him himself, he would send one of the spirits to do it. Castor glanced over his shoulder – just for good measure – but found no one around.

After a moment, he returned his attention to the keys in his hand. Finally, he found the right one. He unlocked the rusty gate and pushed himself into the damp hallway, sealing the gate behind him. Then, he climbed the crimson carpet stairs two at a time, heading for the third story of his apartment building. With each step he took, relief slowly flooded over him. He was so close to escaping – so close! He only needed to do one more thing…

He searched through his handful of keys once more and shoved his way into his tiny apartment, locking it behind him. Darkness hung in every corner, remaining only until the lightning briefly illuminated the room through the smudged, dirty window.

He tossed his keys down and moved across the room towards the small lockbox positioned on the rickety wooden desk near the back wall. His fingers fumbled at the latch, eager to attain the prize he sought to destroy.

Castor opened the box and stared down at the double-edged candle, his heart thumping in his chest. He'd stolen the candle from Agnus's lab in Fortuna months ago, when he'd first learned of its existence. How could he pass up the opportunity to obtain such incredible demonic power? Sure, he'd spent his life in the Order worshiping Sparda, but compared to Mundus, Sparda was nothing.

Unfortunately, that was all too true. Compared to Mundus, the devil himself was only a minor annoyance. He'd known from the start that swearing himself to Mundus was a terrible idea, but the thought of achieving so much power was just too good to pass up – now, he wished he _had_ passed it up.

He swallowed and reached quickly for the candle, gripping an end in each hand. He closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath, and then snapped the damn thing in half.

_There, _he thought with relief. _It's done. No more talking to Mundus, no more doing his work. No more. It's over._

But he didn't doubt that Mundus could somehow find out what he'd done – it was only a matter of time before the Prince of Darkness hunted him down. He needed to leave. Now.

Castor staggered to his feet and turned around, only to find himself staring at the Demon King himself. His mouth dropped open, and his heart stopped beating for the briefest moment.

"Y-You're the Demon King," Castor stammered. "You're Vergil."

Vergil took casual steps towards him, slowly unsheathing his weapon. Castor had never actually seen Vergil, the son of Sparda, in his entire life. Hell, he didn't even know what he looked like. But now, finally meeting him for the first time, Vergil was completely unlike whatever he might have expected.

The man didn't look very human – there was a dark craving of power in his glowing blue eyes, and the slightest radiance of a light blue aura illuminating his entire being. He was as corrupted by his power as Mundus was – which Castor found to be interesting, at the back of his mind.

Fear overtook Castor for the briefest moment. His eyes darted to the side, and he stumbled over loose articles and debris on the floor to find his rusty short sword. He swung it across his chest and pointed it at Vergil with shaking hands, but gained no advantage. Vergil calmly stepped towards Castor, a displeased expression crossing his face. Then, he thrust his arm into a half-circle, and the tip of Yamato carefully caught the hilt of Castor's sword, disarming him completely. The sword flew out of his hands and clattered across the floor, leaving him defenseless.

Vergil pointed the tip of Yamato at Castor's chest. He took a step back, raising surrendering hands. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered. "Forgive me, Demon King. Please, forgive me."

"So you know who I am," Vergil said coolly, the weapon unwavering in his hand. "Then you must know what I'm capable of."

Castor swallowed nervously and shook his head. "H-He's not here. Mundus isn't here. Besides, I'm done with him. I swear, I am. I never should have trusted him."

"Be quiet," Vergil ordered darkly, pressing the sharp tip of the blade closer to Castor's chest.

Castor's eyes locked on the piercing edge of the blade. "Listen," he began, "I-I can help you. Whatever you want, I'll do it. Whatever you want." He took another step back. "Your brother, the Nephilim? I'll kill him if you want me to. I'll do anything."

"I don't trust humans," Vergil returned. "And my brother is for me to deal with. Dante will never deserve to die by the hand of anyone beneath me." He narrowed his eyes. "Besides, I'm not here to negotiate with you – I'm here to get information."

Castor shook his head furiously, his eyes wide with panic. "I don't know what you mean."

Vergil stepped closer to him, backing him up against the wall until he was pinned completely, wincing and whispering pleas for salvation. "Yes, you do."

"Information about what?" Castor asked nervously.

"About Sparda's weapon, the Force Edge."

He shook his head again. "I-I don't know what –"

"DON'T LIE TO ME!" Vergil shouted. He grabbed Castor by the front of his coat and shoved him against the wall, his head thumping loudly. He pressed the blade against Castor's throat.

"Please," Castor whispered, sobbing. "Please, don't kill me."

"Enough with the games, Castor," Vergil said. "Tell me where to find the Force Edge."

Castor shook his head, his eyes wide and his face pale. His fingers clutched at Vergil's constricting grasp. "I can't," he breathed. "Mundus will kill me if I say anything!"

"_I _WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T!" Vergil shouted. "Now tell me!"

Castor winced, shaking his head and closing his eyes. "You don't understand," he continued, his voice shaking. Tears streamed across his face. "You don't understand what he'll do to me…"

Vergil remained frozen in place for a long moment. Then, he drew back and collected a deep breath.

Castor watched him carefully, slowly allowing himself to relax. After a moment, he exhaled. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and cautiously pushed himself away from the wall. "He never told me you were merciful," he said with a relieved chuckle.

Vergil narrowed his eyes. "I'm not."

With a gasp and a choke, Castor was on his knees. His hands wrapped around the sharp edges of Yamato as the blade pierced through his abdomen. Vergil stood before him with cold eyes and an empty stare. He took two slow steps towards Castor, keeping a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, and leaned in towards his ear. "Tell me: where is it?"

Blood pooled at the corners of his mouth. "It was taken…to Fortuna…" he sputtered. "Buried underground…in Agnus's lab…" He coughed, and blood sprinkled from his mouth onto his chest.

Vergil cracked a small, pleased grin. "Perfect."

Then, he shoved Castor backwards. Castor cried out in pain as he fell onto his back, clutching at his stomach in agony. Vergil turned around and casually wiped the edge of the blade on its scabbard. Then, he sheathed the weapon entirely. The blade clicked into place, and Castor released a loud, blood-curdling scream.

As long as Dante hadn't yet discovered the location of the Force Edge, moving forward would be smooth sailing. He could reach Fortuna in a matter of minutes. Once there, he would find this Agnus fellow and demand access to the lab. If he put up a fight, Vergil would destroy the entire city. If he remained compliant…well, he would probably kill him anyway. He couldn't risk loose ends.

He'd just opened a dark blue portal to take him to Fortuna when he heard something behind him that made his skin tingle with apprehension. "Did you think you could destroy me so easily, Vergil?"

Vergil cautiously turned and faced him, watching as Castor slowly rose from the floor. The veins along his body pulsed in a glowing orange hue, threatening to erupt beneath the skin. His eyes raged the color of blood. A dark, evil smirk spread over his lips as he staggered to his feet, drunken with power.

"Mundus," Vergil declared.

Mundus chuckled, drawing himself straight. He was still Castor – still dark-haired and light-eyed – but he lacked the unnerving fear that he had previously carried. With Mundus overtaking his body, he was a raging force of power, a formidable adversary even for the Demon King.

"How are you alive?" Vergil asked angrily, reaching for Yamato.

"You can thank your father for that," Mundus replied. "I've been siphoning his power from the netherworld since you and your bastard brother sent me back."

Vergil drew back in surprise. So that was how Mundus had survived for so long. If he had resurrected using Sparda's power, how much more difficult would he be to face now?

"And speaking of Dante," Mundus continued, "I suppose I ought to send him my thanks, as well. It's really his doing that brought me out of Hell and back into the human realm."

"He couldn't destroy you," Vergil assumed.

Mundus bent over and retrieved the short sword that Castor had been carrying. He ran a finger over the sharp edge of the blade, smiling with pleased eyes. "On the contrary. It seems that you didn't do all of your research when you sent him after me."

"What are you talking about?"

"Since Castor began to serve me," he replied, "I've only been needing the right push to climb out of Hell: demonic power. And by attempting to destroy the portal with that child's plaything of a weapon, Dante inadvertently released me." He looked up at Vergil and smiled. "If you hadn't told him to destroy the Hellgate, Vergil, I would still be stuck in the furnace, relying on this idiot to do my bidding."

Vergil unsheathed Yamato and held it down low at his side. "It doesn't matter," he said, glaring coldly at his enemy. "I defeated you once, and I'll do it again."

"No," Mundus returned simply, shaking his head. "You _and _Dante defeated me once. What will you do now without your dear little brother here to protect you?"

"I'm the Demon King," Vergil boasted. "Which means that if I die, I'm dragging you straight down to Hell with me."

Mundus laughed like he'd never heard anything funnier. "Foolish boy. Do you really think that you're any kind of match for the power of your father, Sparda?"

"I'm more powerful than Sparda!" Vergil shouted angrily. "And after I kick your ass, I'm going to find the Force Edge and send you back to your grave for good!"

Mundus grinned darkly at him. "We'll see about that."

He reached a hand out, and a surge of energy sent Vergil flying backwards. He slammed against the wall and Yamato flew out of his hands. Stars danced in his vision for the briefest moment before he shook himself out of his dizzy state and sat up to retrieve his weapon.

"I'll tell you what, Vergil," Mundus said coolly, approaching him with casual steps. "I'll give you a chance to prove yourself, to show me what you're made of. Just you and me – no demons, and no spirits. Does that sound fair?"

Vergil rose to his feet, clutching Yamato in one hand and drawing in deep, even breaths.

"After all," Mundus continued, "you've worked so hard and come this far – I might as well let you take a swing. Right?"

Vergil released a loud, angry battle cry and charged forward at his nemesis. He slashed through the air so fast that the blade was hardly visible. But with Sparda's power coursing through his veins, Mundus proved to be much stronger than during their last encounter – he deflected the attack with ease, stepping back and allowing Vergil to tumble to his hands.

"Your rage makes you strong," Mundus commented, "but it will also destroy you."

Vergil returned to his feet and drew Yamato back at his side, focusing his hateful gaze upon Mundus. Then, without a moment's warning, Mundus charged at him with his sword swinging high above him. Vergil blocked the blow in perfect time, returning the attack with all the hate in his heart that he could muster. Mundus instantly chopped the air once more, swinging the blade to the side. Again, Vergil blocked it with absolute precision.

Mundus initiated several more swings, all of which Vergil managed to deflect. In all truth, he'd expected more – from both Mundus _and _Sparda. So far, this was nothing.

Then, Mundus stepped towards him and swung his sword overhead once more. As soon as Vergil blocked the attack, he felt a knee jab his gut, knocking him backwards. He staggered to the ground, planting the tip of the blade into the floorboards to steady himself. Mundus stood victoriously over him with the tip of his sword pointed directly at Vergil's face. He grinned wickedly. "That's one," he said.

Mundus stepped back, drawing the sword to his side. "Why don't you try coming at me?"

Mundus was toying with him. He had all the power he needed to defeat Vergil, but he wouldn't let it end so easily.

Vergil rose to his feet and lifted his sword before him. He charged at Mundus, striking the blade high over his head. As soon as he drew the blade down, Mundus disappeared. Vergil chopped at the empty air, collapsing to his knees once more. Mundus chuckled darkly behind him. "I couldn't resist," he said. "The taste of your own medicine is bitter, isn't it?"

Vergil returned to his feet, his hands shaking as rage surged through his veins. Mundus stood on the opposite side of the room with a dark, amused grin spread over his face. "I've got a business proposition for you," he said, raising a hand to stop Vergil from advancing. "I think we both know that I can take you down at any second, despite you being the Demon King."

Vergil glared at him, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

"So let's end these games now. I could use a raging force of power like you on my side. And admit it, kid: having a friend couldn't hurt you."

"After everything you did to my family?" Vergil demanded. "Take your offer back to hell with you, Mundus."

Mundus stretched out his arms. "Family?" he scoffed. "Please, Vergil. You want more power than Sparda, you abandoned your mother in the netherworld, and you're going to kill your own brother when you get a hold of the Force Edge. Am I missing something here?"

Vergil shook his head. "If anyone is going to destroy Sparda's legacy, it will be _me. _Not the son of a bitch who used him to get ahead. I'll show my father what true power is."

Mundus sighed and stared at his sword. "So is this your polite refusal of my offer, then?"

"Refusal, yes," Vergil returned. "Polite? Anything but."

Mundus bowed his head and closed his eyes, seemingly upset by Vergil's response. When he reopened his eyes, however, they were red and flaming with anger. "So be it," he said darkly.

Then, he charged at Vergil, initiating swings that were twice as powerful and fast as they had been before. Vergil could feel his arms growing tired, could feel his resolve weakening, but refused to quit. He would _not _die at the hands of someone like Mundus – weak, pathetic, and unhinged.

But even against his willpower, he found himself slipping. The combined power of Sparda and Mundus was too much for him, and he made a mistake.

Mundus hacked repeatedly at him until the force of his blow knocked Vergil backwards to his hands and knees. Mundus held the sword over Vergil's neck, panting from the intense force of battle he had exhibited.

Vergil stared down at Yamato in his hands. He closed his eyes and imagined himself driving the blade through Mundus's chest, winning the war and claiming the prize of the Force Edge.

But that dream was quickly fading. Mundus was victorious. His only hope was Dante - if he only used the amulet to call out to him, Dante would likely come to his rescue, even in spite of everything between them. But he would rather die with his dignity than survive by his brother's hand.

"It really is a shame, kid," Mundus sighed, resting the sword across his shoulder. "You're a powerful force, not to be wasted. Hell, we could run this show together, and not even Dante could stop us. But that offer doesn't interest you." He cocked his head to the side and smirked. "Does it?"

Vergil heaved deep breaths and glared hatefully up at Mundus. "I'd sooner take my own life than take up your offer."

Mundus's smirk instantly disappeared. "Well, that's too bad, then. But I suppose I can appease your request."

In the blink of an eye, Mundus drove the sharp edge of the sword straight through the center of Vergil's abdomen. He cried out in pain, and Yamato fell from his hands. Mundus forced him farther down onto his knees, driving him backwards until he lay flat on his back. With a bored sigh, he withdrew the sword and admired the blood trickling down the blade.

Vergil reached a shaking hand towards the wound, his fingers slicked with dark blood. A moment later, Mundus drove the sword directly through the wound a second time, pushing through as far as the blade would go. Vergil's mouth hung open, but no sound escaped. His fingers shriveled pathetically, reaching out for any form of salvation.

Mundus retracted the blade a second time and stepped back, sheathing the sword. Then, he bent down and snatched the amulet from around Vergil's neck. "You won't be needing this anymore," he said coolly.

Vergil tried to protest, to cry out, but he could not form any words. Helpless, he watched as Mundus turned and walked away, carrying the sapphire amulet in his hand. Then, with a quick flash, he disappeared altogether.

Vergil forced himself to roll over onto his hands and knees, crying out as the pain enveloped his entire being. He clutched a hand to the wound, squeezing his eyes shut as his vision wavered. Carefully, he retrieved Yamato, and slowly – very slowly – returned to his feet. The colors of his vision blurred together as he struggled to remain standing.

Mundus was heading for the Force Edge, and Dante likely was, too. If Vergil had any hopes of defeating the Prince of Darkness – let alone, surviving – he needed to beat both of them to the finish line.

He sliced Yamato through the air and opened a portal. Drawing in a deep breath, he took two careful steps forward and disappeared.

_I'm coming for you, Mundus._

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**How'd you guys like seeing Vergil again? **

**Prepare for more awesomeness next Monday! We'll check back in on Dante and Tristan and see how things are going on their side.**


	10. Chapter 10: The Prince of Darkness Falls

**Time for a reunion with Tristan and Dante!**

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"Come on," Tristan said, "it's this way."

Tristan and Dante raced across the graveyard and through the halls of the cathedral, into the sunrise and past several surprised and angry guards. _So much for keeping a low profile, _Dante thought.

Several of the guards attempted to stop them, but Dante and Tristan plowed their way right through them, knocking them down like plastic bowling pins. The more formidable adversaries – the Holy Knights, men in white and gold robes with intricate red symbols of a sword stitched upon the sleeves – managed to stall them for a few brief moments, but they were no match for a Nephilim and a demon. Dante and Tristan made short work of them, disarming them and leaving them lying on the ground in a confused stupor.

"This might not have happened," Dante panted, "if you hadn't killed Sanctus!"

Tristan knew he was right, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it.

They slid to a halt as the gates at the front of the cathedral clanked shut. Holy Knights stood on either side of gate with swords drawn. Guards closed in behind them, minimizing the space between them. They were trapped.

Dante summoned Rebellion and held it down low at his side. "We don't have time for this, Tristan."

"I've got an idea," he returned.

"Well, it'd better be a damn good one!"

"Tristan Elliot," the lead guard said in a booming voice, stepping closer. "You are hereby under arrest for the murder of our beloved leader, Sanctus. If you come quietly, your punishment may be less severe. However" – his eyes flickered with wicked delight – "if you choose to put up a fight, both you and the Nephilim will suffer until death. It is your choice, demon spawn." He raised his blade, the tip only inches away from Tristan's chest. "Choose wisely."

"You weren't kidding," Dante muttered. "They _are _nuts."

Tristan glanced between the guards, trying to remember exactly _where _Agnus's lab was. If he could remember the location, he could get there without a problem. But he hadn't been there in five years, since the last time Sanctus sent him for testing. He had forced those memories into the depths of his heart so he wouldn't have to remember what had happened.

"About that idea?" Dante asked nervously.

"I'm working on it," Tristan whispered harshly.

"I'm short for time," the guard interrupted. "You have three seconds until I make the decision for you."

Tristan squeezed his eyes shut, his mind racing forward through the twisting hallways and underground passageways of Fortuna.

"One…" the guard began.

There was a basement with a trap door hidden behind the water cooler…

"Two…"

"Just give me the word, kid," Dante said, "and I'll take care of them right now."

And the basement was somewhere nearby, in a building that fronted as an abandoned fruit shop.

_That's it!_ he thought excitedly. His eyes flew open.

"Three!"

The guards drew their swords back in unison as the lead guard lifted his hand.

"By the guiding hand of Sparda," the lead guard announced, "I condemn these two lost souls to an eternity in Hell!"

The guards thrust their swords forward as Tristan reached behind and grabbed Dante by the arm.

A blurry, rushing sensation came over Dante, a feeling that he remembered after teleporting with Vergil through the indefinite dimensions of reality. He stared through the orange-brown funnel of a tornado of sights and sounds until he finally came to a halt in a completely different place.

With a sigh, he turned and faced Tristan, sheathing his weapon. "Why didn't you wait a little longer?" he asked dryly. "I could have made a sandwich while you pondered things over."

"I can't teleport where I can't see," Tristan retorted, glaring. "Would you have rather ended up inside a brick wall?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dante muttered, waving a hand. He turned away, craning his neck and peering at their new surroundings.

They found themselves standing in a darkened room with a circular shrine directly in the center of the floor. A beam of white light shot from the shrine towards the ceiling, creating a cylinder of humming energy.

Dante curiously approached it, pacing in circles around it and stroking his chin. "So what the hell is this thing?"

Tristan turned towards him, his eyes dark and heavy. "One of Agnus's contraptions," he said quietly.

Dante reached a hand into the light, and his arm immediately became something else. His wrist bulged with unnaturally thick muscles, dark red veins surged along the skin, and his fingernails stretched into sharp black talons. He stared down at his hand with wide eyes.

Tristan quietly approached on the opposite side of the beam of energy, reaching his own hand into the light. His limb mirrored Dante's except for the fact that his veins pulsed with glowing orange energy. "Agnus built this to unleash the demonic power inside of me," he said, closing his fingers into a fist. "He kept me locked up in this thing for hours while he ran tests."

"I don't get it," Dante sighed, removing his hand from the light, allowing it to become a normal human hand once more. "No offense, but what makes you so special?"

After a moment, Tristan withdrew his hand as well. "I don't know," he returned. "I guess Sanctus saw any demonic power outside of Sparda's as a threat, and he wanted to either control it or destroy it."

"Control it," Dante echoed. "For himself, you mean?"

Tristan shrugged. "I guess so."

"It sounds like he's fucked three ways towards Hell," Dante said. "But I can't blame him for wanting to know more about you."

Tristan frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you didn't just spring up out of the ground," Dante shrugged. "Your origins could offer some useful insight on who you are and what you're capable of."

Tristan absently placed a hand on the hilt of Aetherius and lowered his gaze. "If I had answers, I'd give them to you."

"It's interesting you say that," Dante said suspiciously, pacing towards Tristan, "because you and I both know that sword of yours carries memories. No doubt, you've already unlocked them." He stopped just before Tristan and folded his arms over his chest. "Isn't that right, kid?"

"I don't know what you mean," Tristan said coldly.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're hiding something. Normally, I wouldn't care, but you're twisted up in the middle of this, and that makes it a concern of mine. So I'd appreciate the honesty if you could spare it."

Tristan stretched his hands into an indifferent shrug. "There's nothing to spare. I already told you: my parents were demons, and I don't know who they were. Does it really matter?"

Dante narrowed his eyes at him, watching as Tristan shuffled nervously beneath his convicting gaze. He was hiding something – something big. Something important.

"He just might be telling the truth, my boy," a voice called from somewhere nearby.

Dante and Tristan instinctively reached for their weapons and turned on their heels, seeking out the voice in the shadows.

The light overhead immediately extinguished, and a flat screen panel along the back wall turned on. A man's face appeared on the panel – a man with a dark, ugly ponytail, long bangs on one side of his head, and a monocle. He stared down at Dante and Tristan with an eerie, wicked grin over his face.

"After all," the man continued, "I don't see why his father would choose _now _to make himself known to him. He's nothing but a temperamental bastard child, anyway. But you know something about that, don't you, Dante?"

'You must be Agnus," Dante called. "You're uglier than I imagined."

Agnus chuckled darkly. "Your tacky charm can't save you here, son of Sparda, and neither can your demon heritage. I built this laboratory for the sole purpose of _containing _such incredible demonic power – what makes you think even _you _could outwit it?"

"He's right, Dante," Tristan said. "We're like guinea pigs in a cage while we're in this chamber. The only place in his lab where demonic power can't be contained is in the incubation chamber up there." He pointed across the room towards a thick Plexiglas window near the ceiling where another part of the lab was constructed. "He must be keeping the Force Edge in there, too."

"You're absolutely right, Tristan," Agnus answered. "It's safe in here with me."

"You might as well hand it over," Dante said. "Sanctus is dead, and you're next. All we have to do is say the word, and Fortuna will crumble to the ground."

"Fortunately for you, Dante, I am humble enough to bow out and admit when I've lost," Agnus said. "And I _have _lost. Sanctus has always had a head too big for his shoulders, and that's why he is dead. But me? I know I am no match for either of you. So I will kindly hand over the weapon you seek."

"What's the catch?" Dante demanded.

Agnus released another dark chuckle. "Ah, you've caught me. You see, my boy, I am a scientist – I've spent my entire life studying the source of demonic power, and have never come to a fully satisfying conclusion. If I just had more time, I could unlock something incredible – even more incredible than the power of your father, Sparda."

He sighed sadly and shook his head. "But alas, it seems my time has run short. Thankfully, though, not my resources." His evil grin returned. "I have the pieces of the puzzle that I've needed for so long. And to think that they _walked _right into my chambers!" He laughed hysterically.

"He wants us to fight each other," Tristan declared, meeting Dante's gaze.

"Precisely!" Agnus exclaimed. "And without your demonic powers, you're nothing more than two simpleminded humans fighting with sticks. But it's not _just _the two of you who will face off, no. I have a very special guest on his way right now!"

"I've kicked Vergil's ass once and I'll do it again!" Dante said angrily.

"No, no, silly boy – not your arrogant brother. Someone _much _more formidable."

"Mundus," Tristan said darkly.

Agnus laughed wildly. "Well done! Yes, our special guest is Mundus himself, the rightful Demon King. As you're aware of, he seeks the Force Edge so he can reclaim his throne. And who am I to stand in his way?"

"What about your devout loyalty to Sparda?" Dante asked.

"While I do acknowledge that Sparda is all-powerful, I can't pretend that if something greater came along, I wouldn't draw myself near to it."

"So you're helping Mundus."

"I suppose you could say that," Agnus shrugged. "Or you could say that I simply know my place. I'm smart enough to stay out of the Demon King's way. After all, if you can't beat them, serve them!"

"You're a coward!" Tristan shouted to him.

"Well, you're one to talk, young master, hiding from who you really are."

"Enough of this!" Dante demanded. "Agnus, get your fat ass down here, or we'll drag you out by your fingernails!"

"As much as I would love to stay and watch the match unfold," Agnus sighed, "I've got prior engagements to tend to. I wish you both the best of luck! You will definitely need it."

The flat screen panel switched off, and the chamber was in complete darkness once more. A moment later, the power came back on, but the cylinder of energy in the middle of the floor was no longer active. To make matters worse, the lights revealed that the chamber was occupied by one more person.

Dante hadn't seen this man before – he looked completely different than he imagined Mundus's reanimated form would look. He was younger, and he actually had hair.

But the glint of dark, sadistic hatred in his eyes belonged to no one else but Mundus, and the scarred tattoo of three orbs in a triangle had been seared on his forehead.

Dante tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. "Tristan," he said, "can you teleport into the incubation chamber and get a hold of the Force Edge?"

Tristan swallowed nervously and shook his head. "Demonic power is useless out here, except for –" He cut himself off mid-sentence and jerked his head towards the shrine on the floor. "If I can get the power back on, I can get inside the incubation chamber."

"Good," Dante said firmly. "Figure out a way. I'll take care of Mundus."

Tristan glanced uneasily between the two of them before moving towards the control panel in the darkness at the far end of the room.

Dante knew Mundus could care less about Tristan, that he was only there to kill Dante and take the Force Edge. But if they had any chance of escaping and taking the sword with them, he'd have to keep Mundus busy. "You heard that, didn't you?" Dante called to Mundus. "Demonic power is useless out here."

"I don't need demonic power to defeat you, Dante," Mundus returned coolly, unsheathing the short-sword at his side. "Didn't Vergil explain to you how I even managed to escape the netherworld?"

"Vergil and I aren't exactly on friendly terms," Dante said. "You'll have to fill me in."

"Sparda has been selflessly providing all of the power that I needed to resurrect," he answered, grinning slyly. "I knew that keeping him alive would serve a purpose eventually."

Rebellion wavered in Dante's hand. "Sparda?"

"That's right. Your dear father. So you see what this means, don't you? You _can't _stop me – not while his power runs through my veins. Not now, and certainly not after I lay claim to the Force Edge."

"Well, it's a long way from here to the sword," Dante said. "Anything can happen, really."

But he wasn't so sure himself. Since Dante and Vergil had first defeated Mundus, he had been siphoning Sparda's power from the netherworld until he'd found Castor Price to call him out into the human realm. That meant that Mundus's veins pulsed with his own power and the power of Sparda. Even in Agnus's demon-proof chamber, Dante didn't feel very confident about facing Mundus again.

Unfortunately, though, he had no other choice. He stared Mundus down and drew Rebellion back. Mundus mirrored his actions, cracking a tiny smile. Then, they charged at each other.

Without his demonic power coursing through his veins, the sword felt heavier in his hands. He felt slower, became tired more quickly, and found himself less agile. He fought clumsily, barely managing to dodge attacks that he should have been able to deflect with his eyes closed.

Their blades met, scraping against each other and eliciting a sharp screech like nails on a chalkboard. Mundus leaned in towards him, grinning darkly. "You fight like a temperamental human," he said, "like you don't know what you're doing."

Dante shoved their blades apart and regained his footing, drawing in a deep breath. Sweat tickled the back of his neck, reminding him of how tired he had quickly become.

Mundus stretched out his arms. "This body is already prepped for a human fight, because Castor Price _was _a human. Granted, he wasn't _much_ of a human, but his body has certainly served its purpose as my vessel. Don't you think?"

"I think," Dante panted, "that you're fucking nuts."

Mundus sighed and ran a finger over the edge of the blade. "You know, your brother said the same thing." He met Dante's gaze and smiled. "It must be that strange bond that twins have."

Dante's heart skipped a beat. "What did you do to Vergil?"

Mundus waved a dismissive hand. "That's not for you to worry about. You should actually be thanking me for getting him out of your way. If everything went as planned, Vergil is lying in a puddle of his own blood as we speak, dying a slow death."

Mundus stared expectantly at him, waiting for some kind of reaction. But Dante couldn't bring himself to move.

Mundus shrugged helplessly. "Oh, please, Dante. Don't tell me you're upset!"

_I'm not upset, _he wanted to say. But the truth was…well, the truth was…

_God damn it, _he thought irritably. What did he care? Vergil would have killed him anyway. Why should he be worried about his brother's fate? He had chosen his path, even in spite of knowing what that meant.

Dante drew Rebellion back once more, his heart pounding in his chest with anger – or was it genuine fear?

"Let's just finish this," Dante growled.

Mundus sighed and drew his weapon back. "Very well."

Then, Mundus charged at him, attacking with twice the fury he'd previously unleashed. Dante deflected, parried, and counter-attacked, but none of it seemed to be wearing down his opponent. He'd never felt so weak in his life, so helpless. Images of Kat and Vergil flashed across his mind, one already dead and one who might just be hanging on – he wasn't sure which one was which.

Then, Dante made a mistake. He felt his stomach drop the moment he stepped in the wrong direction, and Mundus shoved the hilt of his sword directly into Dante's nose. He staggered backwards, trying to shake off the pain, but almost immediately he felt warm blood trickling down his lip from his nose.

He tried to regain his balance and his momentum, but one wrong move had cost him quite a bit. He wasn't used to fighting like a human – he was used to the supernatural advantage he had over enemies, the extra power that made him unbeatable. Now, he was weak. A bloody nose could throw him out of the game.

And it did. By the time the room stopped spinning, Mundus punched him square in the chest. The breath escaped his lungs, and he collapsed against the wall behind him. His fingers clutched at Rebellion, but Mundus locked the blades together and disarmed him entirely. Rebellion flew out of his hands and slid across the floor, too far away to reach.

He reached for Ebony and Ivory in a panic, but Mundus was quicker – he raised his heel high and came down on Dante's wrist, crushing the bones in his hand and leaving him crying out in pain.

"You know, I expected more from you, Nephilim." He removed his foot from Dante's wrist and smiled wickedly.

Dante drew in deep breaths, cradling his arm into his stomach.

Mundus tossed his weapon to the side and bent down before Dante. "I don't even need a sword to kill you." Then, he reached his hands towards Dante's chest, digging his fingers through the skin.

Dante groaned in pain, reaching for Mundus's wrists, but he was too weak and Mundus was too strong. He felt himself losing consciousness – his eyelids fluttered shut, and his heart slowly stopped beating. Mundus's fingers dug into his chest, clawing for their prize. An ugly, proud snarl covered his face, and his eyes were alit with sadistic rage.

"HEY!" a voice cried.

Mundus peered over his shoulder, his face dropping and his eyes widening with horror.

Tristan stood in the center of the shrine with the column of light dousing him in a soft yellow glow. In the heat of battle and the midst of his pain, Dante couldn't recall when Tristan had finally gotten the power back on, but he was thankful that it hadn't been too late. "It's _me _you should be worried about!" he shouted.

Then, he disappeared in an orange cloud.

"NO!" Mundus cried. With his attention diverted, Dante instantly straightened up. He shoved an elbow into Mundus's face, staggering him backwards. He push-kicked him in the stomach, and Mundus fell flat on his back.

Dante immediately snatched up Rebellion and plunged it into Mundus's gut, leaving him crying out in agonizing pain. The blade slid out of his skin, slicked with blood. Dante took a step backwards and held the tip of the blade an inch away from Mundus's face.

A moment later, Tristan reappeared in the column of light. He stepped down and approached Dante's side. "The sword?" Dante asked.

"I thought you would like the honors," he said. "Now that Mundus is under control…"

Dante offered him a small smile before turning his attention back to his fallen enemy.

Mundus crawled onto his hands and knees, clutching at the gaping hole in his stomach and staring up at Dante with dark, hateful eyes. Then, he began to chuckle. "This isn't the end yet, Nephilim," he muttered through clenched teeth. "I promise you, this isn't the end. If you kill me, I'll just come back."

"For working so hard to get out of the netherworld," Dante replied, "you seem to have wasted your one shot."

Mundus chuckled again. "We'll see about that. There are plenty of others willing to bear my power – all they need is the right push. I am the rightful Demon King, and I won't stop until I've reclaimed my throne."

Dante smirked at him. "Well, good luck with all of that. But until then, take a time-out."

He lifted Rebellion over his head and shoved the blade down through Mundus's chest. Mundus gasped and choked as blood pooled at the corners of his mouth, and his eyes grew wide. Dante yanked the sword out of his chest and stepped back. Mundus collapsed onto his face and stomach, his eyes open and his mouth agape. Blood dribbled down his cheek and onto the ground beneath him.

Dante sheathed Rebellion and bent down near his adversary, carefully fishing through the front of his coat to retrieve Vergil's amulet. He rose to his feet and stared at the sapphire stone in his hands.

"You killed him," Tristan said quietly.

Dante lowered the amulet in his hands and faced his ally. "It needed to be done, Tristan."

"You…you took a man's life for a sword."

"Hey," Dante said firmly, meeting his gaze. "Castor Price was already dead. _Mundus _was the one we killed." He raised an eyebrow. "Got that?"

Tristan nodded slowly. "I guess I just thought…"

"There was no other way."

He pressed his lips tightly together and nodded again.

Dante clapped Tristan on the shoulder and turned away from him. "Now let's get the Force Edge and get the hell out of here."

* * *

**And that's the end of Mundus...OR IS IT?**

**Leave me some of your much-appreciated reviews, please! They make my heart jolly. We're two chapters from the end, so stay tuned! And thanks for your patronage thus far! :)**


	11. Chapter 11: Devil Trigger

**Welcome back. And I know, I know...it is a relatively short fanfic. But there is sorta a reason for that. You'll find out next week, when the final chapter is posted.**

* * *

"So this is what everyone has been fighting over," Tristan said, sheathing Aetherius.

They entered the incubation chamber and stared at the pillar of energy suspending the weapon in the air. Tristan approached the Force Edge and looked upon it with wide, entranced eyes, which made Dante rather uneasy.

There was a flicker of suspicious delight in the kid's eyes, and for the briefest moment, Dante was reminded of Vergil. He knew he might be overreacting, but if the image of his traitorous brother came to mind while seeing Tristan like _that_, he wasn't about to risk anything.

"That's right," Dante said, pushing himself between Tristan and the sword. "But I'll take it for now."

He reached a hand towards the sword, but found himself interrupted – the sharp edge of Yamato smacked at his wrist.

Dante looked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "Vergil," he breathed. "You're alive."

"Get away from that, Dante," he warned. He clutched at his stomach with his free hand, bloodied and in evident pain.

"You look terrible."

"I said, _step back._" He shoved the tip of Yamato at Dante's chest, staggering him backwards. Then, he turned his attention to his prize.

He took two steps towards the sword before Dante summoned Rebellion and shoved the tip at Vergil's chest, blocking his path to the weapon. "I'll let you walk away, Vergil," he warned, "but I can't let you take the sword."

Vergil glared at him for a long moment before drawing himself upright. His eyes raged with genuine hatred as he backed away several steps from Dante. "Very well, brother."

Dante raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Vergil, you can't be serious. The Force Edge isn't worth your life."

Vergil twisted Yamato so quickly in his hands that Dante hardly saw it. He planted the tip of the sword into the ground and carefully knelt down, groaning and wincing in pain. He glared up at his brother. "Don't pretend to care, Dante," he muttered darkly.

Then, he rose to his feet, accompanied by his dark, ghostly doppelgänger.

"Uh, Dante?" Tristan said nervously, reaching for his weapon.

"Just stay back, kid," Dante answered, his gaze fixed upon his twin brother and his sword held tightly in his hand. "Take the Force Edge and get out of the lab."

"NO!" Vergil cried angrily. The doppelgänger teleported in a haze of blue energy, reappearing directly before Tristan. It thrust its sword forward, allowing Tristan barely enough time to deflect the attack.

Dante tried to ignore the sound of clashing swords behind him as Tristan faced off with Vergil's shadow, but he found his heart racing all the same. One wrong move on Tristan's part, and Vergil would take the Force Edge. One wrong move, and Tristan would wind up dead.

"Your little friend isn't going to stick around forever," Dante reminded his brother. "This is just a waste of time and energy, Vergil."

"What would you have me do, Dante?" Vergil snarled, gripping at his stomach. "Turn around and leave? After everything?"

Dante slowly raised Rebellion, extending it towards Vergil so that the sharp tip lined up with Vergil's chest. "Please, Vergil," he said gently. "Just take my offer: walk away."

Vergil's eyes narrowed, and his chest heaved. He coughed, drew his sword back, and charged towards Dante with a loud shout. Dante was rather impressed with how well Vergil held up – even with a bleeding hole in his gut – but he could feel Vergil losing energy, losing patience. He wouldn't last much longer, and neither would his shadow – soon enough, they would be defeated.

Dante deflected each attack with relative ease, which only made him all the more nervous – he needed to stop Vergil, even if that meant killing him. But he couldn't. He just couldn't. Even after everything that had happened.

Dante twisted Rebellion in his grip in attempt to disarm his opponent, but Vergil was smarter than that. He pulled the sword towards him, yanking it out of Dante's control, and shoved an elbow forward into Dante's stomach.

Dante stumbled backwards, barely catching his footing. "What the hell are you doing?" Vergil demanded angrily. "You and I both know you've got more than _that _in you."

Dante sighed sadly and rose to his feet. "You want me to humor you? Is that it?"

Vergil wavered on his feet for a moment, on the verge of toppling, before regaining his balance. "What are you waiting for?" he continued. "Fight! Don't be a coward!"

"If you want to kill yourself," Dante said, lowering his weapon, "do it somewhere else."

Behind him, he heard an audible _whoosh_. The sounds of battle and clashing swords ceased. Dante looked over his shoulder just in time to see the doppelgänger disappearing, and Tristan crumpled to the floor in exhaustion.

Vergil seemed more pleased than Dante was comfortable with, unfortunately – he removed his hand from around his stomach and peered down at the wound, which had healed considerably.

Thankfully, as Dante could see, it wasn't enough. Vergil was still weak and exhausted, but as determined as ever. He charged towards Dante in a drunken stupor, swinging his sword wildly and carelessly. Dante sidestepped the attack and watched as Vergil collapsed to his hands and knees. There he remained, gripping at his stomach and clutching his sword.

Dante carefully paced towards him, positioning himself directly before his fallen enemy. He pointed the tip of the sword at his face and glanced over at his ally. "You okay, kid?" he called.

Tristan rose to his feet, collecting his weapon. "I'm fine," he replied.

Dante returned his attention to his brother. "It's over, Vergil," he said softly.

He had hoped – although, with some emptiness – that Vergil would surrender. But instead, he glared up at Dante, clutching his abdomen and heaving deep breaths. He slowly shook his head. "No, it's not. Not yet."

Then, he disappeared.

Dante wheeled on his feet. He turned around and found Vergil standing directly behind Tristan, yanking his head back with one hand and pressing the sharp point of Yamato into his back with the other. "I warned you about the kid, Dante," he said.

Tristan managed to meet Dante's gaze, even against Vergil's clutching restraint. "I came for what I wanted, Dante," he said through clenched teeth. "You can't let Vergil get away with this."

"SHUT UP!" Vergil cried. "Now give me my amulet!"

Dante lowered Rebellion and stared down at Vergil's sapphire amulet in his other hand. He'd told himself since the beginning that the kid would be a liability – he just hadn't imagined in this way.

But if he allowed Tristan to die at the expense of stopping Vergil, he would be no better than his brother when he had meant to leave Kat behind in the Order's lair all that time ago. Unfortunately, the cost was heavy either way.

He squeezed the amulet tight in his hand and closed his eyes, summoning a deep breath. Vergil released his handful of Tristan's hair and gestured for Dante to toss him the amulet. Dante hesitated – _what the hell am I doing? _– and then threw the amulet across the open space. Vergil caught the amulet and quickly pocketed it. He gestured at Dante again. "Give me yours."

"What the hell do you need mine for?" Dante asked uneasily, clutching at his prize.

"The Force Edge is useless without the power of the amulets fused together," Vergil returned. "I didn't come all this way for nothing, Dante. Give me the amulet."

Dante stared down at the glowing stone in his hands. He couldn't give away his amulet – that would be like giving away his heart. Without the amulet, he was akin to any other demon spawn: weak and fallible.

"I don't have all day, Dante," Vergil said irritably. "Hand it over!"

Dante closed his eyes and pressed the amulet to his forehead. Without the amulet, he would have no chance at defeating Vergil. It housed his very soul, his very core. Vergil would topple the balance of the world with the demon realm under his control and the Force Edge in his hands, and Dante could do nothing to stop it.

He opened his eyes and drew in a deep breath. Then, he tossed the amulet across to Vergil. Vergil caught it and stared at the amulet with ravenous eyes.

Dante stretched his arms out, surrendering. "You've gotten everything you wanted, Vergil."

Vergil narrowed his eyes, pocketing the amulet. He stared at Dante as his eyes darkened with hatred. "Not just yet, brother."

He thrust his arm forward and shoved Yamato straight through Tristan's back. Tristan cried out in pain as the blade forced its way out through his stomach, exposed in the shine of blood.

"NO!" Dante cried. He rushed forward as Vergil yanked Yamato out of Tristan's stomach. Tristan clutched at the gaping hole in his abdomen and sank to his knees. His blue eyes glimmered with tears of panic and shock, and he collapsed face-first onto the floor.

Dante was almost to him when Vergil appeared directly before him, shoving him so hard that he flew backwards twenty feet. Dante tumbled head over heels, somersaulting repeatedly until he came to a complete halt on the other side of the room.

Vergil staggered painfully towards the Force Edge and retrieved it from the column of energy, gripping the hilt with a gentle hand. He held it high before him and admired his prize with reverent awe. "Here it is," he said in a low, entranced voice. "The legendary weapon of our father, Sparda. And it's _mine._" He lowered the sword and looked upon Dante.

Dante groaned as he rose to his feet. As soon as he did, five summoned swords flew towards him, pinning him to the wall behind him and piercing each wrist, each ankle, and his abdomen. He cried out in pain and yanked against his restraints, but found himself powerless.

Vergil clutched at his stomach and winced before shoving the sword into the ground and removing the amulets from his pockets. Shaking, he held one amulet in each hand. They slowly rose out of his hands and danced around each other in a spiral before fusing together into a glowing, purple stone. After a moment, the stone fell through the air. Vergil caught it and held it before him with a wide, pleased smile across his face.

He turned his attention to Dante, retrieving the sword once more. He held the amulet before Dante's face as he approached him, standing only inches away. "Do you see what this is, brother?" he asked coolly. "It's our power combined. And now, it belongs to me." He clasped a fist around the amulet and lowered it to his chest. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. "I wish you could feel it, Dante. It's…indescribable."

He opened his eyes, and his delight had been replaced with hate. "But you can't feel it, because you chose _them_" – he pointed an accusing finger behind him to where he had left a critically-wounded Tristan lying – "over _this._ Over me." He kept his gaze trained on Dante as he held the Force Edge before him, waving the sharp point near Dante's throat. "And now, I'm going to get rid of you for good, so I can show you the consequences of your choices."

_Kat, _Dante thought, closing his eyes. He had failed her. He had failed her, and he had failed Tristan – the only true friends he'd ever had.

Tristan was dead, and Kat would be soon, too – if she wasn't already. The rest of the world would fall helpless to Vergil's unstoppable power. All along, he had believed he could best both Mundus and Vergil, that nothing could keep him from succeeding. There was too much at stake for him to fail.

But here he was, at the alleged mercy of his corrupted brother. And he was going to die, weak and powerless. He wouldn't even be able to go out with a battle cry. He would be executed like a common thief.

Where would his soul go? To Heaven, or to Hell? Back to Limbo? How did it work for Nephilim, beings with one hand in the freezer and one hand in the fire?

And for that matter, did he even have a soul?

Vergil drew the sword back in his hands and locked his eyes with Dante's. "Goodbye, brother," he whispered. Dante closed his eyes, imagining Vergil thrusting the blade forward.

But it never came. He heard a gasp and a choke, and his eyes flew open. Vergil stood with the Force Edge drawn back, prepared to strike, and the blade of a sword shoved through his chest.

Behind him, in a radiant orange glow, stood Tristan in his true demon form. One dark wing sprang from the left side of his back, stretching at least fifteen feet to the side. His face was that of a gargoyle, with snarling sharp teeth and terrifying yellow eyes. His fingers and toes were now sharp talons, and his chest was covered in scales of armor.

He yanked his sword back, and Vergil collapsed to his knees. The summoned swords disappeared, and Dante fell forward to the ground.

Vergil looked up at Tristan with wide eyes. His mouth hung open as he tried to form words. "You…you're not human…" He turned towards Dante. "You knew…didn't you?"

Dante drew in careful breaths to keep himself from passing out. His wrists, ankles, and stomach oozed globs of dark blood. "We're not the only watchmen of this world," he said.

Tristan leapt from the ground, and his dark wing flapped. He drew his arm back, and Aetherius charged with glowing orange power.

Vergil stared angrily up at him. "You think you can kill me?" he shouted, staggering to his feet. "I'm the true son of Sparda! I am the Demon King!" He gestured wildly at Dante. "_He _has betrayed his kind for worthless human scum! You belong with your own kind!"

Tristan hesitated for a moment, and Dante feared that he might actually give in to Vergil's claims. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes that made Dante's stomach turn. _Don't do it, kid, _he thought. _Don't listen to him._

Then, Tristan swung his sword in Vergil's direction, sending a thundering bolt of energy his way. Vergil remained planted to the earth, in evident shock. It didn't take him long, though, to collect himself – just as the cannon came his way, he crouched to the ground, snatched up the Force Edge, and disappeared into a blue portal.

He was gone, and he had taken the Force Edge with him.

* * *

**And there it is: Tristan's true demon form.**

**See y'all next week for the finale! Go ahead and leave some loverly reviews! :)**


	12. Chapter 12: The Portal

**OveractiveImaginer: **Of course I've seen Advent Children! And between you and me *leans in closer to whisper* I actually used the one-winged angel idea for Tristan. You're way too tuned in to my writer senses! :D

***deep breath* Alright, everyone! (And by everyone, I mean, like, two people). Here is the final chapter! READ ON AND ENJOY!**

* * *

Tristan hovered in the air for another moment, but the glowing orange hue that surrounded him began to fade. He wrapped his long wing around his body, shielding himself into a protective cocoon. After a moment, he carefully floated towards the ground.

A blinding light shined around him, so bright that Dante had to shield his eyes. When the light dimmed and eventually disappeared, Tristan lay on the ground before Dante on his hands and knees, clutching at his stomach.

Dante staggered to his feet and made his way to Tristan's side, but when he did, he halted in his tracks. Tristan drew his hand back from his stomach, and the wound Vergil had inflicted was completely gone. He looked up at Dante with confused eyes.

Dante managed a laugh. "What _the hell _are you?"

Tristan chuckled, too, rising slowly to his feet. "I wish I knew."

Dante clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "I guess I owe you a thank-you."

"A big one," Tristan corrected.

"I'd be dead if it weren't for you, kid."

Tristan offered him a weak, proud smile.

But reality sank in quickly, and Dante stepped back with a frown and heavy eyes. Vergil was gone. He was gone, and he had taken the most powerful weapon ever to exist with him. _And_ he had also taken both of the amulets.

But even before that, there was something more important to deal with.

Dante faced Tristan once more, struggling to ignore the pain that weighed down his body. "We've got to get back to Limbo City," he said quickly. "I've got one last promise to fulfill."

* * *

Apparently, as it seemed, Dante was the only demon-hybrid lacking in the teleportation skills department. Although, while teleporting with Tristan, things _felt _different: he didn't feel lost in some hopeless abyss of time and space, or like the walls of gravity were closing in on him. Instead, he felt unrestricted and free. It was a welcoming sensation that made the pain subside.

And incidentally, when they found themselves in Limbo City, he _was _healed of the wounds Vergil had given him. Tristan's Devil Trigger had not only healed him, but had healed Dante as well.

He had to rely on insight to find Vergil's lair, because when he had first been captured, he'd had no idea where it was. That must have been Vergil's point, Dante thought.

With Tristan at his side, they stopped in the middle of an empty street in Limbo City. Dante summoned a deep breath and closed his eyes. _Kat, where are you?_

He remembered Kat's tale about how she and Vergil had met: he had found her wandering through Limbo and had rescued her. Maybe, just maybe, he could find her there again.

"What are we doing here?" Tristan asked.

Dante faced him. "When we met, you asked what it was that Vergil had on me that kept me doing his work. Well, I'm going to show you."

"Is it family?" he inquired.

"Something like that," Dante returned somberly. "And I've got to find her."

He closed his eyes again and reached across the space of his mind. _Kat, it's Dante. Are you out there?_

He waited for another moment, but gained no response. He would have to get into Limbo on his own.

Then, he had an idea. He turned towards Tristan with a calculating grin and a light bulb over his head. "Hey. _You're _a demon."

Tristan shuffled his feet nervously. "Yeah, so?"

"I need to get into Limbo," he explained. "But the only way to do that is if I'm dragged in by the Demon King or another demon."

Tristan shrugged. "Not following."

Dante took a step back, stretching his arms out in surrender. "Attack me."

Tristan laughed. "Are you crazy?"

"It's the only way to get into Limbo. And the only way I might be able to find Kat. I need your help, Tristan."

Tristan stared at him with pleading eyes for a long moment before sighing and giving in. "Fine," he muttered. "The things I have to do for you, Dante."

He cracked his neck and took a step back. Then, he drew in a deep breath.

_Here goes nothing, _he thought. He stretched his arms out to the side and lifted high above the ground, a glowing aura of orange light surrounding him. His fingers stretched, and his nails morphed into sharp talons. The single black wing split through the skin on his back, levitating him above the ground. The rest of his body followed suit, until a hulking gargoyle hung in the air.

Dante sighed, closing his eyes. "I'm gonna regret this in the morning."

Tristan drew his arm back, and a ball of orange energy appeared in the palm of his hand. Dante braced himself, and Tristan launched the ball of energy his way. It pummeled Dante in the stomach, sending him flying backwards until he collided with a brick wall in the distance behind him. He groaned in pain as his entire body ached, and he slumped forward onto his hands and knees.

The ground beneath him immediately changed, as did the sky above him and the scenery around him. A general feeling of hopelessness and desperation began to spread over him. "Yup," he groaned, pushing himself to his feet and dusting himself off. "I'm definitely back in Limbo."

Tristan lowered himself to the ground in the distance, and another ball of energy appeared in his hand. Dante waved a hand at him, closing the distance between them. "You're good, kid," he called. "We're in Limbo now, if you can't tell already –"

Tristan sprang into the air and hurtled the ball of energy towards Dante once more.

"Whoa!" Dante cried. He unsheathed Rebellion with barely enough time to deflect the attack. He swung at the ball of energy like it was a baseball, and sent it flying into the distance. It shattered the window of a nearby building.

Dante quickly summoned Arbiter and smashed the heavy weapon into the ground. The tremor spread across the earth, headed straight for Tristan. Standing directly on the fault line, he was launched into the air. A second later, he landed flat on his face. The orange light surrounding him immediately extinguished, and he returned to his normal human form.

After a hesitant moment, Dante sheathed Arbiter. He took careful steps towards Tristan, ensuring that no threat remained.

Tristan groaned and slowly lifted his head towards Dante. "What the hell was that all about?" Dante demanded angrily.

Tristan pushed himself from the ground, rubbing his head. "I…I don't know," he muttered. "But whatever it was…well, I'm sorry."

Dante stared at him for a moment before shaking his head and sighing. "Remind me never to make you mad."

Tristan tried to shake his head clear of the ache, but it remained, hanging on like an ominous warning. He lifted his head and looked up at the defunct scenery on all sides, at the way gravity didn't seem to exist. _So this is Limbo, _he thought. _Why do I feel like I've been here before?_

"KAT!" Dante cried furiously, interrupting his thoughts.

Dante charged down the street towards a limp body lying at the mouth of an alley. A large, glowing glyph blocked her from the Stygians standing outside of it, attempting to penetrate the shield and kill her.

Dante made quick work of the lesser demons. With a couple swings of Rebellion and a few potshots from Ebony and Ivory, the street was vacant. As soon as the demons were rid of, the glyph disappeared.

Dante rushed forward with Tristan at his side. He collapsed to his knees beside Kat, cradling her into his arms. The spray can fell out of her hands, gently clinking against the ground.

Her eyes fluttered open and stared up at Dante. After a moment, she managed a smile. "You came back."

"Like I said I would," he returned with a weak grin.

"Did you…did you stop Vergil?"

He lowered his gaze, ashamed. "No. I didn't."

After a moment, she managed a smile. "I'm just glad you're alive."

Dante laughed. "That makes two of us."

With Dante's help, she slowly sat up. He planted a comforting hand on her back, watching with concerned eyes. "Vergil trapped me in Limbo as soon as you set out to Fortuna," she said, her voice hoarse.

"I should've known he wouldn't keep his word," Dante muttered irritably.

"But it wasn't all in vain," she said with a weak grin.

Dante frowned. "How do you mean?"

Then, for the first time, she seemed to notice Tristan. She opened her mouth to speak, but then looked up at him. Her face instantly froze, and her eyes filled with terror. "Who is he?" she breathed.

Dante glanced up at him. "Ah, sorry," he muttered. He helped Kat to her feet and clapped a hand on Tristan's shoulder. "He's the new guy. His name is Tristan Elliot."

She continued to stare at him with wide eyes, as if she'd seen a ghost.

Tristan swallowed nervously and reached a hand forward. "Nice to meet you," he said.

Kat stared down at his hand like she'd never seen anything like it.

Dante chuckled. "Don't worry, Kat. He's a friend. He saved my life, actually. Vergil would've skewered me if he hadn't been there."

"He…he's a demon," Kat muttered, her eyes locked firmly upon him.

Tristan frowned, glancing at Dante. "How does she know that?"

"She's a psychic," Dante explained. "She can sense these kinds of things." He turned to Kat again. "He's trustworthy, Kat. I promise you."

She continued to stare at him for a long moment before finally shaking herself out of the trance. She reached for his hand and gently shook it. "Sorry," she said softly. "It's just…I've never met anyone like you before."

"Well, I guess I'm proud to be the first," he said, managing a chuckle.

He moved to pull his hand out of her grasp, but she instantly reached forward and gripped it with her other hand, holding it in place. "Uh…" he said slowly. "Is everything…okay?"

She lowered her gaze and stared down at his hand. "You're very powerful," she said quietly. "I can feel it."

"Well," he said, clearing his throat and pulling his hand out of her grasp. "That's, uh…that's interesting." He glanced nervously at Dante, but found him staring back with the same suspicious, curious gaze. _Do they know? _he thought anxiously.

Finally, Kat shook her head clear. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. I've just never been in contact with power like yours before. Not even with Dante or Vergil."

"Don't let it get to your head, though," Dante warned Tristan with a grin. "You've got awhile before you catch up to me."

He forced a laugh, relieved to be out of the hot seat. "Yeah. I don't doubt it."

And just like it had never happened, she turned back to Dante. "Anyway," Dante said, "you were saying?"

"When I was in Limbo," she resumed, "I found something – something I'd never noticed before. It was like a mirrored dimension to Limbo."

"So…Limbo _within _Limbo?" Dante asked skeptically.

"Something like that," she said, nodding. "I found it the first day Vergil trapped me inside, but I couldn't find it again after that." She paused, drawing in a deep breath. "It was a portal. I think it can lead us into the netherworld."

"You mean," Tristan spoke up, "into Hell?"

Kat nodded. "Straight to the devil himself. How else do you think the demons end up in Limbo?"

Dante stroked his chin, staring down at the ground. "So as long as there's a Demon King," he mused, "there will always be Limbo. And as long as there is Limbo, there will always be demons."

"And as long as there are demons," Tristan sighed, "there will always be Mundus, at the heart of everything."

"Unfortunately, yes," Kat said.

"I thought you had _good _news for us," Dante said.

Kat grinned. "I do. See, I've had a lot of time to think things over during the past few days, and I came up with a theory." She drew in another deep breath. "Mundus _may _always have the potential to rebirth, but he isn't the only one. And as long as Vergil is running around with the Force Edge, humanity is pretty much doomed."

"You're losing me…" Dante said.

"Sorry to say it, but the three of us can't stop Vergil on our own."

"So, what, then?" Tristan asked, shrugging. "You want us to resurrect Mundus and use him against Vergil? That would never work."

"Not Mundus," she said, her eyes alight with excitement.

"Who, then?" Dante asked.

She met his gaze and grinned once more. "Your father," she said. "Sparda."

* * *

**SPARDA! That guy has never really gotten the attention he deserves. So I want to give it to him.**

**That sounds weird.**

**So there it is, folks! The end of the first (short) story! It's into the depths of Hell we go!**

**Thanks to everyone who has followed, favorited, and reviewed my story thus far! And another thanks to anyone who does any of the above after this point. You know I do it all for you guys. ;)**

**And yes, I realize I didn't reveal to you Tristan's origins...you're going to have to stay tuned for that! ;)**

**So, yes, as you might have already figured out, I AM writing a sequel to the story. I hoped to be almost done with it by now, but I am definitely lagging. I've got other stuff to do, too, more than I realize. **

**So that being said, I don't know EXACTLY what date I will post the first chapter of the next book, but I swear on my honor that I WILL post it. You can count on it! And just so I don't leave you in the dark, I will give you an estimated date of mid-August - that's only about a month away. So I'd better get on it. **

**Keep your eyes open for the sequel, titled "DmC: Into the Inferno." **

**And I look forward to regrouping with you guys then! SEE YA! ;)**


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